Don't Lie to Me
by Lady Nigh
Summary: Peter has been abandoned and betrayed by everyone he knows. Is there any hope of saving himself and New York City? PeterOC. Congruent up to episode 1.17 Company Man. In Progress.
1. Chapter 1

**Don't Lie to Me**

Peter needed direction. After the betrayal of Isaac, the abandonment of Claude, and the death of Simone, he was all alone. There was no one he could rely on, no one he could confide in. He was an island of misery and fear. In a matter of weeks he was going to explode killing everyone in New York City. There had to be a way to stop it.

Pulling a pen from his pocket he concentrated on Isaac and how he felt around him. Soon his eyes turned white, and he fell into a trance.

XXXXX

Denise was an average height female, with medium brown hair swept into a sloppy bun, and a cocky smile. She was currently rubbing down the counter of Happy Daze, the bar where she worked. Meanwhile she listened to Bob the regular spill his guts about his latest slip up at work.

"… Of course the incident was entirely my fault, but the supervisor didn't know that. How dare he take the word of some rookie line manager over an employee who's been with the company for 25 years."

"Didn't you mention you have seven write ups for being intoxicated at work?"

"Yes. And most of those are my fault, but two of those were setups by the previous manager trying to get me fired."

"Looks like he finally got his wish huh, Bob."

"Why am I telling all of this to you?"

"Because you're drunk, and I'm a bartender. I'm like a confessional plus booze."

"Yeah, whatever, another scotch."

"You got it." Denise paused long enough to note Tammy coming in, three hours late. "So what's your excuse?"

"I'm really sorry, Deni." she started sincerely. "I tried to be on time today, but my flavor of the week was so good in bed last night. And as I was heading out the door this morning, he started nibbling my ear. And the next thing I knew we were having mind-blowing, bone-shaking sex on the countertop." She cut off suddenly. "I did not mean to say that!"

"I bet you didn't," Denise smirked. "I'll let it slide on two conditions."

"Being?"

"You're going to cover the rest of the shift by yourself?"

"What? You're going to leave me alone with the happy hour crowd?"

"I've covered you five times this month, I deserve a night to myself."

"Ok, you're right. What's the other condition?"

"You call me tonight and tell me every detail of that mind blowing sex."

"It's a deal, Deni."

Tammy took Denise's place behind the counter, while Denise gathered her belongings. Denise shrugged into her jacket, put in her headphones, and headed out.

"Where's that scotch?" Bob barked roughly.

"Oh, sorry, Bob," Tammy cooed. "Coming right up. Another bad day at work?"

"Yes, that Jack off supervisor suspended me. And I didn't do nothing."

"Aww, I'm so sorry."

XXXXX

Peter's eyes cleared, and he looked at the slab of cardboard he'd been drawing on. It was no work of art, but the details were clear enough. It looked like three people on a subway car: two men talking to each other, and a woman standing near them, wearing headphones and reading something. Through a window he could see a sign: D-14. He had to get to that gate.

XXXXX

Denise tried to flag a cab. She liked the privacy they offered. Unfortunately they all seemed to have higher priorities that picking up a fare.

"Is everyone an asshole today or what?"

Reluctantly she headed to the subway. It was better than walking ten miles.

XXXXX

Mohinder tightly grasped the handle over his head. He and Zane had now visited four gifted people, and each time they went back to follow up, they found them dead, with their skull cut open.

"This can't be just coincidence can it? Every person we try to warn ends up dead?"

"I know it's strange, it's like this Sylar guy is following us."

"How is he doing it?"

"I don't know. But we have to keep going we have to keep trying to warn these people."

"But if he's following us, then we're the ones leading him to them. We're the one putting them in danger."

They paused their conversation as the subway came to a stop. People were shuffling in and out, and they didn't want to be overheard. Superhuman abilities, supernatural murders, not exactly typical subway banter.

XXXXX

Denise had bought a paper on the way to the sub station. She was currently in the process of figuring out the sudoku on the back. She became so engrossed in the puzzle that she accidentally walked right into someone. Pulling an earphone out she began to apologize.

"I'm so sorry I…"

There was no one there. She looked all around her feeling very confused for a minute. She then shrugged, put her headphones back in and went back to her puzzle.

The subway screeched to a stop in the station. Denise quickly shuffled through the crowd to find a spot. Near the door she noticed two rather attractive men talking to each other. One was Caucasian with short brown hair, and a five o'clock shadow. The other looked Indian, with soft curly locks. Maybe riding the subway wasn't such bad luck after all.

There were seats open, but she never sat on the subway. Creepy people and foreign stains made her prefer to stand. She widened her stance, wrapped her arm around a pole and continued working on her puzzle, casting the occasional admiring glance at the two men beside her.

XXXXX

Mohinder was beyond frustrated. He didn't know what to do. Everything he tried only ended in tragedy, and now with the additional crowd from the last station he couldn't even vocalize his frustrations.

"Who's the next person on the list?" Zane asked him.

"I'm not sure we should be talking about this in the open," Mohinder cautioned, indicating the woman standing next to him.

Zane looked at the young woman with the newspaper. The woman caught his glance and smiled flirtatiously at him. Zane returned the smile, and turned back to Mohinder. "She's plugged into her I-pod, she can't hear anything we say."

"Even so, any one of these people could be Sylar. I just don't know who I can trust anymore."

"Certainly not me," Zane admitted.

"What?" Mohinder stared at Zane suspiciously.

Flustered, "I don't know where that came from. I meant to say you can certainly trust me."

"I'm not so sure," Mohinder admitted. "Since I met you, you've had these rather suspicious moments." It was Mohinder's turn to look flustered. "I didn't mean to say that."

"I know you didn't," Zane said, beginning to suspect his surroundings.

XXXXX

Ever since boarding the subway, Denise had felt a tremendous headache setting in. Finally the pain became overwhelming and she collapsed onto her hands and knees. The Indian guy next to her was instantly by her side.

"Ma'am are you alright?"

"Who are you?" she asked. Her voice was cracked from trying to control the pain.

"My name is Mohinder. I'm a geneticist. Where's it hurt?"

"It feels like my skull is going to explode."

"What's wrong with her?" asked the man's friend kneeling beside her.

The pain in her head intensified fourfold. She let out a scream. "It's him! Get him away!"

Mohinder didn't know how to respond, "I don't understand? What do you mean?"

"Ask him who he is! Ask him what he's done!"

"Zane?"

"Zane's dead," the man said with a cold expression. "I killed him and took his power."

"Dear Kali," Mohinder exclaimed. "You're Sylar."

Sylar smiled cruelly before telekinetically tossing Mohinder into the wall of the subway car. Denise tried to crawl away from him but as he approached her she became helpless to the pain inside her head.

"Interesting gift you have there. I'd love to add it to my collection."

"Not happening Sylar!" A man called from across the car.

Sylar turned to face the voice, but instead found himself being hurled through the car window onto the tracks.

A young man materialized beside Denise. He was beautiful, like a dark angel. "Are you ok?" he asked.

"I'll be fine. What about him?" Denise lifted her head in the direction of Mohinder.

The young man went over to the Indian. He found a steady pulse. After checking to make sure his spine was intact, he gently shook the man. "Mohinder, you need to get up." The best he got was a glazed expression. "He has a concussion, he needs to get to a hospital." He gathered the man in his arms and looked at her. "Take my hand."

She looked at him confused.

"I need you to take my hand, and hold on tight."

She nodded once, grasped his wrist, and held on like it was a lifeline.

Suddenly all three of them were in a hospital supply closet. Denise screamed.

"Shh." Peter whispered. "I know you're scared. You have every right to be, but right now I need your help."

"To do what?"

"Mohinder needs a doctor. I can't let anyone see me. I need you to check him in, can you do that?"

"I think so," she answered borderline hysterical. "Lean him on my shoulder."

Mohinder was heavy, but Denise was built well, and she was running on adrenaline. She opened the door to the supply closet, and dragged him out of it.

XXXXX

Peter went invisible and followed the woman down the hall. She found a nurse, and frantically tried to explain her situation.

"Slow down, Miss. What happened?"

"We were on the subway, and this guy just threw him against the wall. I think he hit his head. Please help him."

"How did you get past the front entrance?"

"I don't know ok!? One minute I was on the subway, the next I was here. Now can you help him before he dies in the hallway?"

"Calm down, Miss. We're going to help him. Can you tell us anything else?"

"His name is Mohinder. That's all I know. I just met him on the subway." Tears were flowing freely down her face now.

Another nurse arrived with a wheelchair, and Mohinder was taken into Emergency.

"Now, Miss? I'm going to need you to go back to the waiting room. We're going to take care of him, and we'll tell you when there's any change."

"Ok, I can do that." As she headed in the direction of the waiting area she felt a hand on her back, guiding her, comforting her. "Is that you?"

"It's me," he answered. "I'm right here with you. You did good."

Once she reached the sofa she collapsed into massive sobs. Peter was right beside her comforting her as best he could.


	2. Chapter 2

**Don't Lie to Me - 2**

Denise had finally cried herself dry, and was lying exhausted on the waiting room sofa.

"I was suppose to be at work until 2AM." It was the first time she had spoken in over an hour. She was staring into nothingness, but somewhere in that void she knew he was listening. "Instead I called in a favor to get the night off. I just wanted to go home, have a glass of wine, maybe do a puzzle."

"It's not your fault that this happened," responded the man who had called himself Peter. "Just a cruel coincidence."

"Coincidence would be if we both happened to like the same ice cream. My life is Destiny's idea of a sick joke."

"Lately I've been thinking the same thing about my life."

Denise turned her head towards the voice. "Now that is a coincidence."

"Ma'am? Are you alright?" The heavyset nurse gave Denise a peculiar look.

Denise turned back with a weary smile. "Don't mind me. I'm just talking to my invisible friend, Pete."

The nurse gave her a look, and shrugged it off. "Your friend just woke up. Normally we only let family in to see patients, but he says his family is somewhere in India. Would you like to see him?"

"Of course." The nurse led her down the hall to his room. Subtly she reached her hand out behind her to see if Peter was still with her, but he wasn't. She paused briefly in the doorway, unsure of what she would actually have to say to this stranger. "Hi," she said simply.

"Hi," he said back. Turning to the nurse, "Could we have a bit of privacy?"

The nurse shuffled around Denise who closed the door behind her.

"It's strange," Mohinder started, "We've just been through a life or death situation and I don't even know your name."

"I'm Denise Haskell," she answered, "but everyone at work calls me Deni. Are you ok?"

"I've been better, but they say I'll be fine in a day or two. I was actually more worried about you. What happened to you on the train?"

"It's my own personal curse. You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Mohinder gave her a leveling look. "I'm in the hospital because a man who I thought was my friend, threw me against a wall with his mind. You'd be surprised what I'd believe."

Denise settled into one of the uncomfortable chairs by his bedside, and determined how to begin. "It's relatively simple I guess. People just can't seem to lie around me. Whenever they try it's like the truth just comes out like a Freudian slip."

"That would explain why Sylar outed himself on the train. But I that still doesn't explain why you were in pain."

Sigh. "That part's a little more difficult. Just because a person tells the truth, doesn't make them an honest person. Previous lies, and certain actions give off a sort of vibration. It's almost like a sound. I can feel it in my head. I'm guessing your 'friend' for lack of a better word, killed someone. More like a lot of people from the feel of it."

"Yes, my father was one of them," Mohinder threw his head back against the pillow. "I can't believe I didn't suspect him sooner. All this time I've been trying to warn people, when in fact I've been leading him right to them."

"Don't beat yourself up too much. True deception is hard to finger, even for someone like me. I didn't even know it was him, until he was kneeling right next to me."

"If you can feel that, why did you even get on the train?"

"It's not that simple. Everyone lies. You forget your mother's birthday, so you pretend your card got lost in the mail. A friend asks you what you're thinking, you don't want to talk about it so you say 'nothing.' You tell your girlfriend 'you look great in those jeans.' You tell the traffic cop, 'I'm sorry, it will never happen again.' In a crowded room, my head is just constantly humming. And besides this is New York. What do you think the chances are of catching a subway without a former felon on board. That's why I usually take a cab."

Mohinder thought back to the days when he drove a cab. That wasn't exactly a safe bet either. He realized in what ignorance he'd been living his live here. Eden had been a spy all along, Sylar was even worse. "I envy you, to have such a gift."

"Trust me. You don't." Not really knowing what else to say, Denise got up and headed for the door.

"Wait," Mohinder called after her. "Just one more thing? How did we escape?"

Denise smiled. "There was someone else on the train, he saved us."

"Who?"

"I'm not sure I should tell you, but I think he was a friend of yours."

After she left, Mohinder sat pondering. Who did he know that could possible stop Sylar? It was someone he knew, and probably someone with power. "Peter!" he exclaimed. It had to be. He must have learned how to control his power.

XXXXX

Finally alone, at least relatively, Peter took an inventory of his new powers. Sylar had been busy since the last time they'd met. He could melt objects, hear the faintest sounds, memorize everything he read, see in the dark, bend himself in half, and predict the weather. He knew that in the next two hours it was going to be cold and crappy. He was grateful that he had learned enough from Claude to be able to turn his powers on and off. Otherwise the super-hearing would have gotten old real quick.

His thoughts turned to Deni. He didn't know how, but somehow her destiny was connected to his own. He liked being around her. Whether it was her blunt/friendly personality, or his own loneliness, didn't matter. Somehow he had to convince her to let him be around her. After all, it wasn't just his loneliness, it was the fate of New York.

The more he thought of Denise, the more he started getting this strange feeling in his head. Like everyone around him was humming, and it was bouncing around his skull. Suddenly a middle-aged couple started fighting.

"What do you mean this is all my fault?" the woman shouted.

"Just what I said. If you hadn't bought him that scooter, like I told you not to, he never would have been hit by that car!"

This was insane, he had to find somewhere else to wait for Denise.


	3. Chapter 3

usfbullscountry- thank you for the interest I greatly appreciate it, I'm also glad that chapter two was able to clear things up.

k0ney- It is coming, but slowly. It will happen when it's appropriate, and after the characters have worked through some deamons.

**Don't Lie to Me - 3**

The definition of an oxymoron, Denise thought, is walking around a hospital and asking if anyone has seen an invisible man. How did one go about it. For all she knew he'd already left. She didn't want to think that. She'd at least wanted to say goodbye to him before finding her way home. That was going to be another chore. This hospital was in uptown Manhattan, her apartment was in downtown Brooklyn, and starting today she had sworn off public transportation.

"I should have just walked the ten miles," she said, irritably to herself.

She had actively searched waiting rooms, corridors, and supply closets, and finally gave up. After grabbing a half-assed coffee from one of the vending machines, she wandered around, eventually finding her way to the natal ward. It was a relief to be in the company of others without the incessant vibrations. Despite all of it's advantages, Denise hated being alone.

"It's peaceful, isn't it?" Peter asked, standing right behind her.

Denise turned around startled. "I didn't feel you come up," Denise said, before correcting herself. "I meant to say I didn't hear you."

"That's a good thing right?" he asked sweeping his dark bangs away from his face.

"How did you know?" she asked, realizing that she knew her secret.

"Mohinder once described me as a sponge; that I absorb the abilities of the other people I meet. When I think about you, it's like everyone I'm around is humming. Not here though."

"They're too young," she explained. "They don't have any secrets yet, no lies, nothing to hide."

"Too bad they don't stay that way."

"It doesn't make them bad people, just dishonest."

"Good people, don't lie."

Denise gave a snort, "Sure they do. Come here, I want to try something."

Peter obliged, curious what she had in mind. For a moment she just stood there, appearing to be concentrating very deeply. She moved closer, then closer, then finally she was so close that she had to put her hands on his shoulders in order to lay her ear against his.

"There it is," she said softly. "Can you feel that? Very faint, like a tiny bell in the distance."

"Barely." he answered.

"You've taken blame to protect someone you care about."

Peter's thoughts drifted to family brunch, and how'd he covered his older brother's Vegas liaison, by claiming Nathan was getting him psychiatric help. "How do you know?"

His words were softly spoken, almost intimate. Denise suddenly realized just how close she was standing to him, and backed away. "Each form of lie has a specific frequency. Innocent lies are quieter, sweeter. Self serving ones have a rather dull pitch. Malicious ones… they're painful. Resonance increases with severity and regularity."

She paused her technical description to simply look at the man who'd saved her life. He was giving her his undivided attention. Innocent and sincere.

"What is it?" Peter asked after she'd been silent for a while.

"I just realized that in addition to being my hero, you are probably the most honest man I've ever known."

"Not as honest as you though."

"That is entirely selfish on my part. It's bad enough I have to live with everyone else's vibes. Do you really think I want my own bullshit bouncing around my head?"

Peter couldn't help but laugh at the admission. It was a soothing sound, heartwarming. Still the laugh didn't reach his sad eyes.

Denise smiled back at him. "It's been a while since you laughed, hasn't it."

"Yeah," he said simply not wanting to elaborate.

"It's ok, it's probably none of my business. Anyway, I just wanted to see you one more time, before I headed home. I know thank you doesn't even begin to cover it."

"You're leaving?"

"I'd better, soon they're going to start kicking out visitors, and it's a long walk to my apartment."

"You don't want to walk," he stated firmly.

Denise rolled her eyes. "I'm not looking forward to it, but let's just say I've developed a certain phobia of the subway."

"It's not that," Peter countered. "In about 10 minutes there's going to be freezing rain. You'd freeze solid before you got down the block."

As if on cue thunder suddenly rumbled ominously above them. Denise looked upwards miserably. "Looks like I'm commandeering a supply closet for the night, unless you have a better idea."

XXXXX

Denise had to admit to herself that this was a far cry from what she had in mind. Lois Lane had to be insane if she thought that rocketing over sky scrapers, through cold winds was romantic. At the moment she was concentrating on not strangling Peter with her fearful death grip around his neck.

"What part of Brooklyn do you live in," Peter shouted over the wind.

"Off of Flatbush Avenue, near the coast."

She managed to direct him to the front of her building moments after the rain started. Fortunately the freezing rain had forced everyone inside, so their decent wasn't noticed. It did however make it very difficult for Denise to force her key into the lock. When she finally succeeded, she held the door open for Peter, who was very glad to come in out of the rain.

"It's not much," Denise admitted. The paint was peeling, the ceiling was water damaged, all in all it was very run down. "Still, it's better than the street."

Peter silently agreed. For the last week he'd been taking shelter in doorways, and subway tunnels; trying to avoid the police, the press, everyone.

"This is probably going to come out wrong, but if you want to stay… I'm not trying to hit on you, even though you are insanely hot. Crap, I didn't mean to say that!… Just that, when you mentioned that you couldn't let people see you… What I'm trying to say is if you need a place to stay…"

"Thank you," Peter said before she could embarrass herself any further. "I actually do need a place to stay."

They shared a moment in the dingy hallway. Ice still clung to their hair, water dripped off their clothing, but in that moment, they were simply two people sharing the comfort of the other's presence.

The moment was interrupted by Denise's cell phone. Irritated, she pulled it out of her pocket, and put it to her ear.

"Hello?" … "Tammy, Hi." Denise bit her lip as her coworker began going into an intimate description of her morning. "Tammy? Wait, hold on." … "Yeah, I know, but I've kind of made other plans for tonight." … "No you're not going to hear about it in the morning, they're not those kind of plans." … "Ok, later."

Red faced, Denise hung up and apologized to her guest. "My coworker, Tammy. I live vicariously through her since she has enough sex life for the both of us." The admission made her blush even redder. "Is there anyway you could stop doing that?"

Peter simply laughed again. "Not when I'm standing right next to you."

Denise quickly opened the door, and gestured for him to come in.


	4. Chapter 4

-1**Don't Lie to Me - 4**

The apartment was small, and eclectically ordered. It was almost like every item in it was a piece of a puzzle. Move one thing and it would be out of place. A nervous habit Denise had explained. This is were she retreated when she was tired of being around people, and the place she fled when she was sick of being alone. It was quite the hectic cycle.

The rain was beginning to soak into their skin causing them both to shiver violently. Denise had quickly hunted down a large t-shirt, and a pair of men's sweat pants.

"I think these might fit you," she said handing them to Peter. "My brother is always leaving stuff when he visits.

"Thanks," Peter said. He retreated to the tiny bathroom while she changed into a tank top and PJ pants.

XXXXX

Isaac Mendez was staring at the needle in front of him. He'd been clean for weeks now. He didn't need the heroine to paint the future, but he craved the oblivion the drug would provide. Within that moment he could make the pain of Simone's death go away.

It had been almost a week since Mr. Bennett had given him the gun, since Peter had confronted him, since he'd fired those two shots blindly into the air, and hit the woman he loved. He'd watched in horror as she faded in the arms of the man she had chosen over him.

_"I don't think I should keep this anymore,_" she had said earlier that morning, trying to return the key for the second time.

_"Keep it,"_ he had insisted. _"I'd do anything for you."_

Those words came back to haunt him as he'd watched her die, his key resting in her palm. If only he hadn't made her keep it, she'd still be alive.

_"Are you deaf?"_ Peter had screamed at him. _"I said call an ambulance!"_ Peter had switched into nurse mode, using his fingers to try and stop the blood from pouring from her chest.

It was already too late, Isaac knew. He could see the blank look in her eyes. One of the bullets had gone straight through her heart. Peter had screamed for her to hold on, that everything would be ok, that he loved her. Even he had begun to realize that it was just too late, and had collapsed in sobs over her body.

It should have been him, Isaac thought. I should have been the one to hold her as she died. The one who'd tried to save her, to tell her everything was going to be ok. But he couldn't do it. He'd been the one to pull the trigger.

He couldn't bring himself to hate Peter. The gun had been in his own hand. Had still hung limply from his hand. What did the world matter anymore, now that he'd killed the only one in it that mattered. He'd told Peter how sorry he was, and brought the gun to his temple.

It was Peter that had stopped him, who wouldn't let him do it. It must have been the nurse inside him, that couldn't let anyone die. _"It won't bring her back!"_ he'd shouted. Nothing could bring her back, but the pain would have been over.

So now he was staring at the needle. It was filled with enough heroine to tranquilize an elephant. He tied the band around his arm, tapped the vein; but before he could pick up the needle, his eyes started to cloud.

XXXXX

It had been hours since she'd eaten anything, and the coffee she'd had earlier did little to appease her hunger. Denise opened her fridge revealing three bottles of wine, a six pack of Coronas, rum, vodka, tequila, whisky, gin, vermouth, Irish cream, and a wide assortment of juices and sodas for mixing.

Peter looked over her shoulder astonished at the sheer volume of alcohol. "I hate to suggest this, but do you think you might have a drinking problem?"

Denise simply gave a good natured chuckle, as she located a pack of hotdogs in the back. "I'm a bartender," she explained. "I rarely have more than two drinks a week, but I never know what I'll be in the mood for." She located the knife drawer, put a slit in the pack of dogs, and threw the whole pack in the microwave. "If you'd like something, just ask. I'd be happy to mix it. After today, I could probably use a drink myself."

"Actually a Margarita would be great," Peter admitted.

Deni smiled her cocky smile. "Strawberry, Lime, or Mango?"

XXXXX

This case was insane Audrey thought to herself. Since she and her partner had split up, five more bodies had been discovered, and she was no closer to finding Sylar. Now she was investigating a mysterious subway incident in which the only physical evidence was a shattered window, and a large dent in the wall.

The eye witness reports were little help either. Most of them wouldn't talk, and those that would had an insane story. She wished Matt was here. He could get these witnesses to talk without saying a word. He'd know where to start looking, or at least the next step. Unfortunately the last she'd heard of him he was with a group of renegade heroes trying to figure out what happened during his two day amnesia.

Her phone rang, "Hansen."

_"Hey I think I found your Mohinder. An Indian in his late twenties submitted to St. Clare's hospital for a concussion."_

"St. Clare's isn't that in Manhattan?"

_"It wouldn't be the weirdest thing that's happened in this case."_

"You're right. Good work. I'll be there soon."

XXXXX

It was a sight watching Denise flip the bottles, and squeeze the limes. It wasn't until her stomach rumbled that she even remembered the hotdogs in the microwave. She took them out, cut them into pieces, and rummaged through her fridge for a block of cheese. It eventually became an assorted dipping platter with various snacks and sauces. Returning to her blender, she added the ice, and let it run. It wasn't long before Peter and Deni were both tipsy on the couch sharing stories.

Peter was relating a story using exaggerated hand gestures. "When I first started to realize I was special, I was thrilled. I thought I could fly. I kept trying to convince my brother, but he wouldn't believe me. So one day I called his cell, and told him to look up. I was standing on top of a building, shouting about my destiny and how I was going to change the world. And then I put my arms out and let myself fall."

"And you flew?"

"Actually I plummeted like a rock. If Nathan hadn't flown up and caught me, I'd have been dead. As it was he lost his grip halfway down, and I smacked the pavement. When I woke up in the hospital he tried to deny the whole thing."

Both bust into peals of drunken giggles.

"So what about you?" Peter asked. "How'd you learn about your gift."

"I never use to think of it that way. For the longest time I just thought that everyone around me was an asshole. I was taking a handful of aspirin a day to try and deal with the headaches, but it didn't work. Then when I was 18 I got a notice for jury duty. I was put on this case, it was a double humus… double homiced… homicide, yeah that's it. Anyway the evidence was weak, everyone was sure he'd get off. But then they put the guy's friend on the stand, who was suppose to be his abilly, er?"

Peter was giggling hard, "Alibi?"

"Yes! Alibi. So the guy opened his mouth, and just started spilling everything. He confessed that he'd been alone at the bar that night, hadn't even heard from his friend until he got a phone call that night. Then a riot broke out in the courtroom. The guy kept shouting that he was going to kill his friend, make sure he bled slow and all that. That's when I finally figured it out. I still visit the courthouse once a week just to sit in on a trial."

Peter smiled at Deni. She really was a good person. Blunt and pessimistic, but noble at her core. "Catch many bad guys?" he asked."

"Actually I usually end up catching the lawyers."

Another peal of drunken laughter rang out.

He is so gorgeous, Deni thought. Those dark bangs, damply clinging to his sweet brown eyes. His firm jaw and cheek bones that just ached to have a kiss planted on them. Her coworkers voice began to drift into her head. _"And the things he could do with his tongue. My god he was just licking my stomach like it was covered in chocolate. I just wanted him to devour me."_ Denise needed to think of something else. Anything else.

"What are you thinking about?" Peter asked her.

"How much I want to kiss you." The words were out before she could stop them.

The smile faded from Peter's face. "It's not that you aren't beautiful, and funny, and kind."

"You don't have to explain," Deni really didn't want to hear it. She'd been hearing the reasons all her life.

"I want to. My girlfriend, Simone…"

Of course, she thought. All the decent ones were taken.

"She died in my arms last week."

That was the last thing she was expecting. "I'm so sorry," was the only thing she could think to say.

"I just don't want you to be the rebound girl." The words struck a painful cord within him. When Simone had left him after their first night together, she said that she had to work some things out. He had told her "_I don't want to be the rebound guy_." Even now he didn't know what they had been. He had loved her with all his heart, given all of himself to her. And yet when he and Claude had spied her on the roof, she and Isaac had shared a loving embrace. It could have been innocent, he didn't know. And now with her gone, the pain was worse than ever. He wouldn't do that to someone else.

Denise pulled him into a comforting hug. "It's ok. I understand."


	5. Chapter 5

-1**Don't Lie to Me - 5**

Isaac's eyes cleared. For a moment he couldn't even bring himself to look at what he'd painted. He was exhausted both emotionally and physically. Finally, he raised his head and looked at the canvas.

It was his studio, during the evening. Two figures were standing before the painting of Peter flying. He recognized the one figure as himself. The other was a woman about half a foot shorter than him. She was holding one side of her jacket open. Beneath her midriff was bare revealing a line across her torso. What did it mean?

Looking down again, he realized the band was still tied around his arm. He ripped it away and tossed it to the floor. He was so tired he was ready to pass out. He'd have his oblivion soon.

XXXXX

Denise woke up face down in the sofa. Peter had tried to be chivalrous the night before, and let her sleep in her own bed. She finally told him that if he wasn't going to take the bed, he'd have to settle for the floor, because she was too tired to budge. In all frankness she hadn't used her twin bed in well over a year. After massaging the pillow creases from her face she got up and went to look in on Peter.

He was on his back, with his head tilted to one side. Those taunting bangs covering half of his face. _"It's not that you're not beautiful, and funny, and kind."_ Those must have been the sweetest words anyone had ever said to her. Not only were they sweet, but they were true. Most of the time, all she got in the way of compliments was "What'll it take to get into those hot little jeans of yours?" Thinking back on the night she was glad she hadn't kissed him. Well not really. She still wanted to. But she was unsure of her motives. Was it because he had saved her life, because he was so handsome, because he was the first and probably only decent guy she'd ever meet? Guys like that deserved more than gratitude, and passing infatuation.

XXXXX

"Mohinder Suresh?"

"Yes?" Mohinder answered wondering what the militant looking woman was doing in his room.

"I'm Audrey Hansen of the FBI," she stated briskly, whipping out her badge. "I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Very well," Mohinder began to feel nervous. His drafty hospital gown did little to help. "I'll try my best."

"Where were you at about 7PM yesterday?"

"I was on the subway."

"Heading home?"

"Home is Madras, India. But no, I was on my way to visit someone."

"Who were you visiting?"

"Brighton Kinsley."

"Friend of yours?"

"Not really. He was a name amongst my father's research. I was going to meet Mr. Kinsley about a theory my father had been working on, involving human evolution."

Audrey studied Mohinder for a bit. He was holding something back. "Were you alone?"

"No I was with another man."

"His name?" Audrey's stare rattled the Indian.

"That's where it gets a bit difficult. He told me his name was Zane Taylor.

"Zane Taylor, was found dead in his kitchen last week. His head was cut open and his brain was missing."

Mohinder visibly shuddered at the mental image. He remembered the first time he'd seen someone murdered in that fashion, the blood still dripping from Dale's hollow skull. He'd remembered the three other murders that followed. The images were forever burned into his memory.

"Does that MO sound familiar to you?"

XXXXX

"Nathan!" Peter screamed out suddenly.

Denise ran to his side to see if he was ok. "Peter, what's wrong?"

"It's my brother," he gasped, scrambling to get out of bed as soon as possible. "I just had a dream. He was meeting with this woman. The blonde he had the affair with in Vegas. All the sudden she shoved a needle in his neck, and he blacked out."

Deni had to struggle to keep up with his thought processes, "Do you know where he is?"

"I'll recognize it from the air."

XXXXX

Mohinder felt like a wall was being built up around him. Any other person in a similar situation would have asked for a lawyer a long time ago, but what lawyer would believe his story. Until recently, he didn't even believe it himself.

"Look, you've already mentioned Zane Taylor. That's enough for probable cause. Once you're in custody we have your fingerprints which we'll compare to the ones we've found at the scene. Not only that, but we have the 911 distress calls to the last four murders on tape. A male voice with an Oxford Indian accent. Would you like to guess the results of a voice analysis?"

"I didn't kill anyone!"

"Then what were you doing at those last four crime scenes?"

"I was looking for people connected to my father's research. After the first woman was murdered I tried to contact the others to let them know they were in danger. If I had know the man I was working with was Sylar I would have killed him myself!"

"So you do know his real name?"

"I don't know if that's his real name or not. But he's the man that killed my father. I have a recording of them arguing with my father's research."

Though one wouldn't know it from her icy exterior, Audrey was itching with excitement. She was getting closer. If she could get her hands on that research, it might finally help crack the case. "What was your father working on?"

"I told you. It was a theory on human evolution."

"And what did it have to do with the people in those files."

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you?"

She really wished Matt were here right now. He wouldn't have to screw with all this small talk, he'd just pull the answer right out of their head. That gave her an idea. "My former partner on this case, thought no one would believe him either. I was on the scene of a double homicide. The husband was frozen, the wife was stuck to the banister. Parkman walked right through the crime scene and found their little girl hiding in the closet. He finally admitted that he could hear the girl's thoughts."

She paused for a moment, removing her gun from its holster. Mohinder was becoming very alarmed. Audrey continued, "Then Sylar broke into the police station where we were keeping the girl in protective custody. He threw me against a wall, and pointed my gun at my head." She held the gun to her head to demonstrate. "And he hadn't even moved. He was standing twenty feet away the entire time." She quickly re-holstered her gun. "Now either you tell me everything you know, or I'll turn you in as an accessory to murder."


	6. Chapter 6

-1**Don't Lie to Me - 6**

Deni wasn't sure how she persuaded Peter to take her with him. She was even less sure of why the hell she'd asked to go along in the first place. She supposed that it was because he was her hero, and she couldn't let him go rushing to the rescue of someone else without trying to return the favor. How she would help was the least certain thing of all.

She'd asked Peter to wait only long enough for her to shove into a jacket and pair of boots. Then she took his hand, and they raced off together.

XXXXX

Mohinder told Audrey everything he knew, everything except New York exploding in seven days. No matter how open minded she may have been, no one would believe that without proof.

"So after you were thrown against the wall you don't remember anything."

"No," Mohinder shook his head. "I'm sorry. The next thing I remember was waking up in this room, having the nurse ask me some questions, and meeting Denise."

"Who's Denise?"

"Denise Haskell was the woman from the subway. The nurses say she was the one who checked me in."

"The woman with the migraine?"

"She described it as sort of a biological polygraph. She can sense dishonest people, and no one can tell a lie around her."

"Any idea how she got you from Brooklyn to Manhattan in under ten minutes without even coming in the front door?"

"She said that someone else had helped us, someone I knew, but she wouldn't mention a name."

"Any ideas?"

"Peter Petrelli. He's the only person I know of who's faced Sylar and lived."

"Yeah, save the Cheerleader, Save the World. I remember the speech from when I interviewed him back in Texas. From what you say he's been off the radar for almost two weeks. Any idea where I can find Haskell?"

"No. I was checking up on every name local to New York. She wasn't on the list."

"Thank you," Audrey said, finally satisfied that she had the whole truth. "I'll be in touch with you soon to get a hold of those records." As she left his room she restated her now familiar sentiment. "This case is insane."

XXXXX

Nathan blinked as the hood was removed from his head. He was laying on a rooftop, his hands and feet were hog-tied with duct tape. Once his eyes adjusted to the light he saw a pair of sexy red spike heals.

"Do I have your attention, Mr. Petrelli?"

"Niki, why are you doing this?"

His answer was a swift kick that nearly broke his jaw. "The name's Jessica. I have a message for you from Mr. Linderman."

"Bastard couldn't have called me?" His cheeky remark earned him another brutal kick. This one felt like it had cracked a rib. "Ok, I'm listening!" he gritted through his teeth.

The toe of her stiletto tilted his face up to meet hers. "Are you?"

"Most intently," he answered. His bondage and his newly broken rib were making it difficult to breathe.

"He wants your brother."

"Pete? What for?"

"His business, not mine."

"Even if I was willing to hand over my own brother, he's been missing for almost two weeks."

"Then you'd better find him. Because if you don't hand him over before the election, I won't just kill you. First, I'll let you watch as I pull your mother apart. You can listen to her scream as I tear her arms out of their sockets. And then I'll go after your little wifey on wheels."

Nathan turned his head away from her. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to block the thought of what she'd do to Heidi. His wife had already suffered too much because of him, and Linderman.

Jessica brought her foot back for another kick, but was struck with a piece of brick. Furious, she turned to face her attacker.

"Let him go," Peter commanded.

Nathan shouted out to his brother, "Peter, get out of here!"

Jessica just gave an evil smile, and launched herself at the younger brother. She landed several crushing blows to his face and stomach, before her opponent turned invisible.

Nathan was so engaged by the pantomime fight going on before him, that he didn't hear the woman come up behind him. The woman pulled out a small pocket knife, and started sawing through the tape. Her handy work startled the man she was trying to free.

"Who are you?" he asked, turning towards her.

XXXXX

"Petrelli?" Denise was shocked to learn that Peter's brother Nathan was none other than congressional candidate Nathan Petrelli. Being this close to the politician was already giving her head a small twinge. Rudely she turned him back over so she could finish working on his bonds. "Let's just say I know your brother," she hissed quietly.

"He certainly is acquiring some interesting friends lately."

"Get up and shut up," she scolded him, after cutting through the last of the tape.

Gingerly he got to his feet, clutching his side. The movement caught the blonde's attention.

"Oh shit!" Denise called. "Now would be a really good time to fly."

Nathan did just that, leaving Deni in the path of the stunning assassin. Denise bolted across the roof, dodging around pipes and air vents. The blonde caught her by the collar of her jacket, causing her body to backlash. Her head began to throb, but she still had enough control to fight back. She lashed out with her pocket knife, slashing the blonde's forearm.

Peter came to Deni's aid by pulling the blonde off her and throwing the woman against the wall of the roof entrance. Something was happening to him because he was able to throw the woman with enough force to shatter bricks. The woman slumped down after hitting the wall. Peter moved to give her another blow when Denise cried for him to stop. Peter looked at Deni questioningly.

"Her vibrations, they've completely changed." It took a minute for Denise to get to her feet. When she'd fallen backward her knee had twisted under her. Slowly she limped over to the woman and gently shook her. "Miss, are you alright? Ma'am?"

"Where am I?" the blonde looked around confused.

Deni, took that as a sign that it was ok to put away her knife. "On a rooftop somewhere in downtown Manhattan."

"Did I kill anybody?" she seemed terrified, and remorseful.

Denise shook her head, "Not today."

"Thank God."

Nathan landed a few feet behind them, clearly preparing to take off again should the situation warrant it, "Would someone mind telling me why the three of you are conversing away, like she didn't just hold me hostage?"

"You?!" the blonde looked surprised.

"Don't tell me you're going to pull that I don't remember crap again. Jessica?"

"It's Niki," the blonde protested.

"Multiple Personality Disorder," Deni said in realization. "Makes perfect sense."

"And I still don't know who the hell you are," Nathan said, walking up to Denise.

"Denise Haskell," she said turning to face him. In a sudden motion she balled her fist, and punched him right in the eye. "And you just lost my vote, jackass." Furious she made her way to the stairwell, still limping slightly.

Nathan groaned clutching his eye.

Peter looked after her concerned, "Are you ok? Where are you going?"

"To work!" she spat out in frustration. Her next comment was considerably calmer, though still irritated. "And I'll be fine, just need to walk it off. I'll see you later."

As she disappeared into the building Peter turned his attention to his brother who only asked, "Where the hell have you been?"


	7. Chapter 7

**RSegovia: **Thank you so much for all your reviews. They were helpful, encouraging, and constructive. I hope you continue to enjoy, and I'll try to watch the cheese factor.

**Don't Lie to Me - 7**

Claire was once again in the passenger seat, of yet another car, going who knows where. He never told her where they were going, or what the plan was. He rarely said anything at all. She assumed that it was because he'd spent so long pretending he couldn't talk, that he simply preferred not to.

At first she'd been relieved by his silence. She had been through such an emotional rollercoaster that she really didn't think she could say anything and hold back tears at the same time. She'd almost been murdered, her friends were taken from her, her dad was a secret government agent, her real dad didn't even want to see her, and now she was being forced away from the only home she'd ever known.

Yes, those thoughts had overwhelmed her the first few days, and she was happy for the silence. Now she was simply numb… and bored.

"Why won't you tell me where we're going?" she finally asked.

He answered in his unhurried manner, "It is safer for you if you do not know."

"What? Do you think I'm going to start handing out fliers to everyone at the next truck stop?"

There was silence for a long time. Claire was use to this; it didn't mean she liked it. "I asked you before if you could keep a secret. You didn't."

"My mom was in the hospital because of what my dad did to her."

"What I did to her," the Haitian corrected.

That killed the conversation for another hour. Claire periodically checked the clock radio in between counting road kill. Ironic that seeing a dead possum by the road use to gross her out. After sticking her own hand in a garbage disposal, there was very little she was grossed out by anymore.

"Are you hungry?" the Haitian finally asked.

"Yeah," Claire answered. She wasn't really, but it was something to do.

XXXXX

Deni honestly thought she'd be fine, but she and her knee were of distinctly different opinions on the matter. She'd progressed five blocks when she finally faced the fact that "walking it off" wasn't working. After a lengthy deliberation she finally hailed a cab. Her boycott of the public transportation system would now have an exception clause for anytime she was stranded outside of the Brooklyn area.

XXXXX

Patching everyone up had been Peter's top priority. While he cleaned the cut on Niki's arm, Nathan pursued his top priority, which was lecturing his younger brother.

"Do you have any idea how many people I've had out looking for you? I have a third of my staff still combing the city as we speak. Where have you been?"

"Hiding," Peter answered simply. "I've been learning to control my powers on my own."

"Control?" Nathan asked incredulously. "Is that what you call your fight with Isaac, control?"

The look in Peter's eyes had told Nathan that he'd said the absolute wrong thing.

XXXXX

Nathan had been there, the night Simone had died. After she'd left his office, he called up a member of his security staff, and had her followed. The last thing he needed was her going to the press about the Petrelli brothers' "Special Abilities." Little did he know that she would end up dead not half an hour later.

When the security guard called him with the news, he couldn't believe it. Simone had gone to visit her ex-boyfriend, and shots had been fired. When the guard went in to inspect the situation he'd found Nathan's little brother, holding the woman in his arms as she died.

Nathan had hung up the phone right then, and on impulse flown directly to the art studio. He arrived just in time to hear another shot. His guard filled him in later that Isaac had tried to kill himself, and that Peter had pulled the gun away from his head as it fired.

_"It won't bring her back!"_ His brother had shouted.

That was when Peter broke down. Nathan had seen his brother down before. He'd seen him frightened of their father after he'd failed a test. He'd witnessed him bristling with fury after a betrayal. He'd seen him in lock-up for a crime he didn't commit. He'd even seen his frail body, lying on a hospital cot, twice. In his life he'd never seen his brother like that.

That's when he entered the room. He tried to comfort his brother, but there simply weren't words to stay his grief. Nathan remembered the night of his car accident. He remembered the grief he'd felt for paralyzing Heidi. He couldn't even imagine what he'd have done if she'd died.

He'd had the security guard drag Peter away from the scene. And though he knew he'd live to regret it, he called Linderman to help him cover everything up. Peter had wanted to call the police; to stay and take the blame. Nathan couldn't allow that. Having his brother arrested for murder would be political suicide. Most of all, he couldn't bare the thought of Peter spending one more night in a cell.

XXXXX

"Peter, wait!" Nathan had to grab his arm to keep him from running off again. Unfortunately, the movement aggravated his rib.

"Why!" Peter shouted. "So you can keep me from making another mess for you to clean up?"

"So I can help you," Nathan hissed, holding his side. "You're my brother. That's my job."

As the two brothers reconciled, Niki stood off to the side. She felt every bit the intrusive outsider to the family moment.

XXXXX

"You look like hell!" Frank gasped in astonishment as Denise walked in. Deni couldn't argue with him. She'd caught her reflection in a window on her way in. Her knotted pony tail had been rained on, then slept in, and still remained uncombed. She was still wearing her PJ bottoms which were now dirty and ripped at the knee. To top it all off she had someone else's blood on her sleeve. "What happened? Did you get mugged this morning?"

"No, I got mugged last night," Deni explained in a sarcastic manner. "This morning I was dragged around a rooftop."

"Seriously, are you ok? I can give you the night off."

"I took last night off. Look what that got me. I just need to borrow a comb." Reluctantly Frank pulled a comb out of his apron and handed it to her. "Thanks," she said. "I'll be ready in five minutes."


	8. Chapter 8

**Don't Lie to Me - 8**

"_Beautiful" my ass!, _Deni thought. _It must have been the booze talking. _She managed to wet comb all the tangles out and secure her hair in a braid. She tossed off her bloody jacket and brushed off her PJ bottoms as best she could. A small piece of duct tape on the inside of the knee served as a quickie mend. At least she was presentable from the waist up. The benefit of being a bartender is that most of the customers never saw what pants you were wearing.

XXXXX

Niki was desperate to call her family to make sure they were ok. Nathan refused to take his eye off her while she did this. His other eye was hidden beneath an ice pack. A little too late, since the skin was already swollen and purple. Thinking about said injury the conversation turned to Deni.

"I don't know what she was so pissed off about," Nathan grumbled. "Anyone who can punch like that can clearly defend herself."

"She wouldn't have had too if you hadn't left her there," Peter defended.

"Forgive me for not being chivalrous after being kidnapped by a woman."

Nathan took a deep painful breath. Peter had given him the lousy news that there was nothing to do for a cracked rib. Just let it heal. Peter had suffered numerous broken bones in his battle with Jessica. Fortunately the quick healing he'd acquired from the cheerleader meant that he didn't have to suffer for weeks.

It was Peter that finally broke the silence. With a nod in Niki's direction, "What did she want?"

"It's not important right now," Nathan dodged the question. "Let's go home. We can talk about this later."

"I'm not coming."

"Don't do this, Pete. The family is worried sick. You need help, and your new little friend doesn't have the resources to give it to you."

"Maybe not, but I know I can trust her." Thinking of Denise, the vibrations in his head began to grow. He could feel them coming in waves off his brother. Intense waves. He felt a sharp pain behind the arch of his right eyebrow.

"Pete!" Nathan called to him with concern in his voice.

"What did Jessica want from you?"

"She wanted me to hand you over to Linderman."

Peter looked at his brother with betrayed eyes, and simply disappeared.

"Peter! Damn it!"

XXXXX

_Welcome to New York._

The sign brought an unexpected smile to Claire's face. She'd always dreamed of one day seeing the Big Apple. The tall buildings, the busy streets, the lights. Having grown up in a small town, she imagined New York to be everything Odessa wasn't.

XXXXX

Audrey had managed to track down Haskell's address, but the apartment was empty. Not only that, but the door hadn't even been locked. A quick glance inside proved that the most suspicious item was the blender filled a quarter of the way up with melted margaritas.

"Hanson, I think you better get a look at this."

Audrey went to the room four doors down the hall, where Detective Lawrence was standing with his weapon drawn. She looked in the room and saw the all too familiar sight of a hollow skull. "We need to get statements from everyone in this building."

XXXXX

Denise looked at the clock in misery. Her lunch break was almost over. Fortunately so were her chili fries. Reluctantly she took the ice off her knee and walked gingerly back to the bar. As she exited the break room, a tuft of artificial, fire-truck-red hair caught her eye.

Ignoring her knee she moved swiftly over to the young man at the counter, and snagged the tumbler out of his hand.

"Hey!" he shouted in surprise.

Denise ignored him and took a sip of his drink, then immediately dumped it in the sink behind her. "Tammy?!"

Her ditzy coworker was busy flirting with a man at the other end of the bar. "What?"

"Why didn't you card him?"

Tammy had the decency to look ashamed. "He said he knew you."

"Yeah, I know him. The little punk lives down the hall from me, with his Dad."

"I'm right here," redhead muttered.

"I'll get to you in a minute," Deni told him with a leveling glare, then turned back to Tammy. "If he claimed to know me then why didn't you come ask me?"

Tammy looked like she was about to cry. "You've been hurting all day. I didn't want to bother you."

As air-headed as Tammy was, Deni had to appreciate the thought. Denise took a breath and gave her coworker a weak smile. "Why don't you go take your lunch."

Tammy nodded and ducked into the break room.

"I did pay for that," the redhead chimed in once she'd left.

Deni filled a glass with fountain pop and handed it to him. "What the hell are you doing here, Brighton?"

Brighton chugged half the glass before he looked at her. "I can't go back home."

Denise gave the teen a sympathetic look. "You and your dad get in another fight?"

"No," he answered quickly. "Worse. There was this guy. He came to the apartment claiming to be a scientist. My dad let him in. They- they started talking, and the guy started asking about supernatural abilities. My dad told him he was crazy,… and then…" Brighton couldn't bring himself to say it so he chugged the rest of the soda.

A customer at the other end of the bar hollered for a refill. Denise pulled out a waitress pad from under the counter, and handed Brighton a pen. She quickly mixed the customer a seven-seven, and returned to read what Brighton had written.

_He cut his head open without touching him._

Deni brought her head close to Brighton's. "Did you see his face."

He nodded.

"Brown hair? Dark eyes? Short stubble?"

He nodded again.

"Did he see you?"

"Just a glimpse… I- I think he heard me. I don't know how. I didn't make a sound. I was watching through a crack in my door, and when… when he turned around, I ran. I've never run so fast in my life."

"I want you to go into the break room and stay there, alright?"

Brighton simply nodded.

XXXXX

"The body was identified as that of Brighton Kinsley. The 51 year old man lived with his teenage son," Lawrence reported.

"Brighton Kinsley?" Audrey asked.

"You heard of him?"

"That was the name Suresh gave of the person he was coming to warn. What are the chances he lived in the same building?"

"It would make sense if she was riding the subway home."

"Any ideas of where the son could be?" Audrey asked.

"The neighbors suggested the nearest rave. Apparently the kid was a bit of a rebel. Liked to sneak out to parties. Though he has been seen on occasion with your witness, Deni Haskell."

"The tenants couldn't tell me much about her. One of them did say she was a bartender for a place called Happy Daze."

XXXXX

Sylar was relishing his super-human hearing. Half a block away and he could hear every words the officers had said. Now thanks to them he knew exactly where to get his next power.

His gloating session was cut short as an irate cabby honked his horn. The sound brought Sylar to his knees. Control. He had to learn control.


	9. Chapter 9

**makulit & Death's Scythe Is Love: **Thank you both for the encouragement. I was of the view that the last chapter was shit, but I guess that's just what happens when I obsess over it for two days.

**La Rose Bleue**: I'm so glad my OCs are realistic. I'm trying to avoid cliché, and Sueism like the plague.

**To all:** My apologies for further delay. My car is currently at the dealership getting repaired, and I've had to stay offline anticipating their call. Bastards still haven't called.

**Don't Lie to Me - 9**

Audrey took one last browse through Haskell's room before heading out. Two sets of clothes were hanging on the radiator. One set looked distinctly male. The shelves were mostly filled with text books: Psychology, Anatomy, Eastern Religion. The occasional crossword, or riddle could be found too. One book seemed to stand out. It was a bright purple three ring binder. On the spine, written with a sharpie were the words _Deciphering the Tones and Pitches of Human Vibrations_. Interesting selection.

She didn't have a search warrant, but that was only an issue if she decided to charge Haskell. Highly unlikely. She took the binder with her. In case Haskell wasn't at work, it might be useful in locating her.

XXXXX

Deni was ever so subtly freaking out. As soon as Tammy finished her break, she was going to take Brighton and run. She didn't yet know where, but the less logic she used to get there, the more difficult it would be to track her down again.

Having worked herself into such a frenzy, she managed to spill half a bottle of vodka down the front of her. "Shit!" she swore loudly.

"Everything ok?" Tammy asked from the break room doorway.

"Not really, no," Denise admitted. "Are you almost done?"

"Just finished. What's wrong?"

"I really can't talk about it Tammy," she said pushing past her into the break room. She quickly pealed her tank top over her head, and threw her jacket on over her sport's bra. "I need you to tell Frank I'm not coming back."

"What why?"

Despite all her effort, her fear was now apparent. "I can't tell you. It's safer if you don't know. Ahh!" Deni cried out as her head suddenly began to throb. "Oh, God! He's here."

"What can I do?" Tammy asked worried about her coworker.

"Get back out there, and start serving drinks."

"But-"

"Now!" she hissed quietly.

As soon as she and Brighton were alone, she scrambled around looking for paper. She found her book of kakuro puzzles, tore out a page and wrote a note to Brighton.

_Don't say a word. When I tell you to "Go" I want you to run. Go to St. Clare's hospital in Manhattan, and ask for a patient named Mohinder Suresh. Tell him everything. Stay there, with as many people around you as possible. If I don't find you by noon tomorrow, go with Mohinder. Nod if you understand._

Brighton looked like he was about to protest, but Deni's glare silenced him. He eventually nodded. Deni fished a wad of bills out of her jacket pocket. She pealed off a few twenties, and handed them to Brighton. She shoved the rest back in her pocket, steeled her nerve and walked out of the break room.

XXXXX

When Claire had seen the sign saying _Welcome to New York _she had automatically assumed they were going to New York City. Now as she gazed across the bridge at Niagra Falls she realized just how wrong she'd been. They weren't going to see Peter Petrelli, they were going to Canada to hide.

"Come," the Haitian said. "We need to keep going."

"I don't want to go," she said sullenly.

"It is for your own protection," he reminded. "Or would you like your father's sacrifice to be for nothing?"

She was sick of it. All of it. Tired of the secrets, the lies. The running and hiding. There was only one place she wanted to go. Making up her mind, she ran. The Haitian ran after her, but when she climbed onto the railing of the Rainbow Bridge, he knew there was no way to stop her. Everyone around her was in shock. Several were trying to get to her, telling her not to jump. She just gave her wide Texas smile, and let go.

XXXXX

"Oh God. He's here."

Sylar smiled sadistically to himself. If she could sense him coming from half a block away, then she truly was powerful. He was eager to discover just what precisely she did, and how it worked. He would have to work smoothly, get her alone.

Scratching sounds. She was writing something. What was she writing? Didn't matter. He entered the bar and took the seat nearest the door. He saw her emerge from the back, a look of fierce determination on her face. She saw him. He grinned at her. What could she do. He had her cornered.

He heard the waiter come up beside him. "Hey, I'm your server, Jack." He plopped down a one page menu. "This your first time here?"

"Yeah, but I'll just have a beer. And one for the lady in the tan jacket."

The waiter turned to where said woman was sitting. "Deni?" he asked with a chuckle. "I wouldn't. Most of the guys that go after her end up with a broken nose for the effort."

"I've met her before," Sylar smiled.

"Whatever you say man."

The waiter moved over to the bar to place the order. Sylar made his way over to her table. She didn't move as he took the seat across from her. He could hear her heart racing. Fear, and… something else. Her brow was creased tightly in an attempt to block out the pain.

"Headache?" he asked with mock sympathy.

"What do you want?"

"I want your power."

"Why?"

"So I can be special. What exactly is it you can do?" He looked at her hands clenching the table so hard her fingernails dug into the pine. He could hear the table begin to shake.

She waited for Jack to drop off their beers before finally answering. "I… can feel… every dishonest thing you've ever said… or done."

"Interesting. What do you feel?"

"17 murders, 5 attempted murders, 1 assisted suicide, 2 betrayals of people who considered you a friend, countless lies to gain people's trust, masquerading as someone else. And worst of all, seven month ago you were an honest man. Less than a year ago… you _were_ special."

Her comment infuriated him. He was special. Unlike all the other gifted people he wasn't limited to just one ability. One day he'd have them all.

A strangled whimper escaped from her throat, and a trickle of blood began to run from her nose. "Go!" She cried out suddenly.

He barely saw it. Just a flash of red, like a glow-stick in the dark. It hit the door with such force, that the door rebounded and shattered.

Sylar turned on the woman, leaning across the table to whisper directly into her ear. "You think you've saved that little punk? It's only a matter of time before I track him down and kill him too."

The woman only let out a single excruciating scream before collapsing on the floor. Sylar cringed. His sensitive ears ached at the sound. When he could finally look at his intended victim, he saw that trails of tears flowed out of her wide unseeing eyes.

"Deni!" screamed a woman from the bar. "Someone call an ambulance!"

XXXXX

Peter was nearly back at Deni's apartment when he was struck with another vision. It was strange, not really a single vision, more like a collection of fragments.

_"What the hell are you doing here?" **He cut his head open without touching him. **Sylar. Frantic Breathing. "Oh shit." "Everything ok?" "I really can't talk about it." **St. Clare's Hospital. Nod if you understand.** Vibrations. Pain. "Oh God. He's here." Blood. "Go." Getting blurry._

_"This is Jack at Happy Daze off of Flatbush avenue. My coworker just collapsed. I think she's having a seizure. Please send an ambulance right away."_

_Blackness._


	10. Chapter 10

**RSegovia:** I started this fic immediately after watching "Unexpected," since the following episode "Company Man" was primarily flashback, and dealt with characters I hadn't written in yet, I was able to extend the continuity. While I will continue to be inspired by following episodes, I won't hold strictly to those events. As it is, it seems I gave Isaac too much credit, and Mohinder far too little.

**GreenLeoFiend:** Thank you for all your reviews. The encouragement is much appreciated. Just knowing that you took the lengths to print it, I take that as a very high compliment.

**Don't Lie to Me - 10**

"Why are you keeping me at your campaign headquarters?" Niki asked as she was ushered into a quiet office away from the rustling of pages, and the staccato of keyboards.

"So that my staff can keep an eye on you until I figure things out," Nathan bit out irritably.

"You'd be better off sticking me in an office with less windows."

"If your evil twin decides to break through the glass I have four armed guards standing by to shoot you."

"I'm sorry about your brother."

"Peter's trying to hide from everyone right now, not just me. If anyone asks you, you're Peter's personal psychiatrist, and you're helping me bring him home."

"You're asking a woman with a split personality to impersonate a shrink?"

"Why not? haven't you been around enough of them."

"Just one. They stopped trying to integrate me after Jessica broke a pair of hand cuffs, and tazered Dr. Witherson nearly to death."

Nathan gave the woman an appraising look, and decided to call in three more security guards.

XXXXX

Mohinder was finishing buttoning up his flannel shirt. It was a relief to be back in his old clothes again. His 24 observation had gone by quite uneventfully, and had given him plenty of time to think. He'd come to the United States to prove his father's research had meaning. He'd come back to find these special people and help them deal with their abilities. Instead all he'd accomplished was to get four people killed. As long as the list existed, everyone on it would be in danger. If not from Sylar, then from some government agency that wanted to lock them away. He had to destroy it.

"Mr. Suresh?" the heavy-set nurse called from the doorway.

"Yes?"

"There's a young man in the waiting room asking for you. He won't give his name but he says Deni sent him."

It took Mohinder a moment to connect the name Deni with the woman on the subway. Why would she send someone to see him?

"If you don't want to see him I can take you through a back corridor," the nurse offered.

"No. I'll meet with him."

XXXXX

Upon arriving at Happy Daze, the sight of the shattered front door alerted Audrey that something wasn't right. She pulled her weapon and kicked the door open.

"FBI everyone freeze!"

Detective Lawrence was right behind her following her lead. Inside there were several people gathered around looking at something. They parted to reveal a woman lying on the floor, wide eyed and bleeding.

Lawrence puts his fingers to her throat. "She's still alive, we need an ambulance."

"I've already called one," said a waiter across the room.

"Everybody get comfortable," Audrey told the room. "No one's leaving until everybody's answered a few questions."

XXXXX

Peter raced to locate the bar, fearing that he was already too late. He saw the shattered front door, and several police vehicles parked outside. His throat caught when he saw paramedics wheeling Deni's body into an ambulance. Using his invisibility he snuck into the ambulance with her. Her face looked pale and frightened. A trail of blood had dried to her face. Peter's only consolation was that the pulse in her neck was steady.

It was a tight fit inside the ambulance. Two paramedics constantly shuffled around Denise trying to figure out what was wrong with her. Peter had to use his newly acquired flexibility in some rather creative ways. He tried to read her mind, but any thoughts she might have been thinking were over powered by the other three occupants of the ambulance.

XXXXX

Looking at the young man in question, Mohinder began to wonder if sneaking through the back corridor wouldn't have been the better idea. He was dressed in ripped jeans, and a long t-shirt, and had unnatural red hair that pointed in every direction. He was also nervously pacing the floor so quickly that he almost reminded Mohinder of a game of ping pong.

The red, human ping pong ball stopped suddenly and looked right at him. "Are you Mohinder?"

"Yes, and you are?"

"Brighton Kinsley. I'm suppose to tell you a lot of stuff."

Mohinder was stunned for the moment. How had Ms. Haskell known who he was looking for? "I imagine you do," he finally said. "Let us find a place more private to talk."

XXXXX

"Why don't you want me questioning anyone?" Detective Lawrence was getting more than a little aggravated by his new partner's evasive nature.

"I've been working this case for months. I know intimate details about it that you don't."

"That still doesn't explain why you don't want me in the same room while you're questioning them."

"This case is weird. Some of the things I've seen are impossible to explain."

"Like half decapitated bodies missing their brain?"

"Weirder than that."

"Try me."

Audrey didn't want to try him. She had a barely civil working relationship that she did not feel like jeopardizing for the sake of a game of truth.

"I heard your last partner heard voices."

"Parkman was not crazy. He was just pissed off, because he found out his wife was cheating on him."

"I wasn't suggesting he was crazy. I was asking if he heard voices."

"He thought he could hear what people were thinking."

Lawrence considdered this news for a moment. "And what if I told you that an invisible man lives on a roof top next to my apartment."

"If he's invisible how do you know he's there?"

"Because he keeps pigeons." Great, Lawrence thought to himself. Now she thinks I'm crazy.

"You're not joking with me?"

"If I were lying, would I use pigeons as evidentiary support? I swear it's the truth. But if you tell my supervisor, I'll deny everything."

Finally Audrey relented. "Prepare to hear some weird shit."


	11. Chapter 11

-1**GreenLeoFiend, Rsegovia, Padme4000, & Brlswrth454:** As always thank you all for the encouragement and support. I'm not sure what I'm doing, but I'll keep doing it. I happen to be a great fan of Mohinder, so I may have to write a redemption fic for him in the near future.

**Don't Lie to Me - 11**

"Her blood pressure is 218/130," shouted one of the paramedics, as they arrived at the hospital. "We tried to lower it, but nothing seems to be working."

_Get away._ Through concentration, Peter managed to tune out everyone else's thoughts and focus on Deni's. _Too many, too close. Make them go away._ He could feel the vibrations coming from everyone around her cot. It was like a dozen birds were pecking at his skull from the inside. He telekinetically pushed everyone back about three feet, and took off down the hallway with her gurney.

Behind them the doctors, nurses and paramedics were stunned to see the cot take off down the hall by itself. Finally one of the paramedics shook himself off and ran after it.

XXXXX

Detective Lawrence stood off to the side looking intimidating while Audrey interrogated the waiter.

"So you were the one to place the 911 call."

"Yeah, is this going to take long, because I'm usually out of here by nine."

"You can leave when we're done, and not before."

The waiter scowled, and rolled his eyes emphatically.

"So tell me, Jack, what was Deni doing right before she ended up unconscious on the floor."

"She was sitting down having a beer with some guy."

"Did you recognize the guy?"

"No, he was new. He just came in sat near the door, and ordered for the two of them. Thought it was kinda weird that they were sitting together. Deni doesn't date. Claims that men give her a headache. She's sortof a Femme-Nazi I think."

A look from Audrey made him cringe.

"Not that there's anything wrong with not dating I mean," he stumbled to explain. "She's just… Could I possibly go to the bathroom."

XXXXX

Per Deni's request, Brighton was adamant that they have there discussion within view of other people. Mohinder suspected that something major had happened to frighten the kid. They settled for a quiet table in the cafeteria. They could be seen by plenty of people, but wouldn't be overheard if they kept their voices down.

Brighton was slurping incessantly at a peach smoothie, so Mohinder decided to start off the conversation. "I'm surprised to see you here. I was on my way to meet with you yesterday, before-"

"You were looking for me?" Brighton interrupted, straw still wedged firmly between his cheeks.

"Yes. My father developed a program to locate people with supernatural abilities. Yours was one of the names on the list. I was on my way to talk to you about them, and warn you about a serial killer that is targeting people like you. It wasn't until last night that I discovered, the man I was warning people about was none other than my own partner."

Brighton started slurping very earnestly.

"He's already found you hasn't he."

The kid finally came up for air. "Sorta. My dad answered the door. The guy said he was looking for Brighton Kinsley… I always hated being named after my dad. And then he… I ran down the fire escape…" That was all he could managing before returning to his smoothie. Finally he hit bottom in the cup. He took a few breaths before trying to continue. "I… Uh… Do you have a pen and paper?"

XXXXX

Barb Lebowitz was a 45 year old Jersey native. On weekends the woman practically had her own barstool. "Of course the girl doesn't date. I mean if you spent every evening serving drinks to men twice your age while they rated your ass, you probably wouldn't date either. She's a pretty enough girl, she could probably find someone if she tried, but she's always covering shifts for that bimbo Tammy. Now that broad has not been on time since the invention of the watch. She doesn't even try to make up a good excuse, just admits that she spent the morning banging the headboard against the wall. That's the kind of people that hang out at this bar.

"You should hear the stories," Barb continued seemingly without ever taking a breath. "Now I know there's that whole truth in liquor, blah, blah, blah. But around here, they start confessing before the glass touches their lips. Take last week for example. I kid you not, this priest came in, ordered a drink, and was just talking to Frank. You know, guy stuff, the Yankees I think. Deni comes in for her shift, and the first words out of this guys mouth are 'Damn those vows of celibacy.' The man had barely touched his drink and he starts going into detail about how he'd love to hear her scream in the confessional. The poor girl didn't even blink an eye, that's how desensitized she is."

Audrey finally cut her off trying to get on with the interrogation. "So did you or anyone next to you see what happened to the door?"

XXXXX

"Nathan Petrelli speaking," the congressional candidate answered his phone.

_"Sir, we've managed to track down that woman you asked about."_

"Where is she?"

_"We've just been notified that she's been checked into a hospital in downtown Brooklyn. It's called …."_

"Thank you. Get some men down there and have them keep an eye open for Peter. I'll be right there."

XXXXX

"Have you ever seen a Speedy Gonzales cartoon? You know, that mouse that moves really really fast?" Mitch's words were anything but fast. From the smell of him, he'd been sitting at the bar since 9AM. "That's what it looked like. Only not a mouse. At least I don't think it was a mouse, cause it was really big. And red. Well part of it was red. It came out of the back room, movin' like Speedy Gonzales and hit the door. That's when the door broke. That was right before Deni screamed and flopped over. I'm getting a little thirsty. Do you think you could get Tammy to make me another drink?"

XXXXX

The second smoothie seemed to help. Mohinder looked on as Brighton began writing a novel on the back of his tray liner. The kid could write incredibly fast. Mohinder suspected the kid possessed elevated speed. This suspicion was confirmed when the pen briefly ran out of ink. Watching Brighton shake the pen was like watching fan blades spin. Finally the kid ripped off the top section. He handed it to Mohinder to read, then continued writing.


	12. Chapter 12

**Death's Scythe Is Love, RSegovia, Padme4000, & GreenLeoFiend: **Thank you for your patience, and continued support of my fic.

**Don't Lie to Me - 12**

_I first noticed it over two years ago on my seventeenth birthday. There was this rave downtown. I was grounded, but I snuck out, like usual. I met up with some friends outside, and we all took some Ex. It felt great. We were all feeling the music. Then this piece of killer techno came on. I borrowed some glow sticks and just cut loose. Now when you wave glow sticks in the dark they leave this trail. My whole body was doing it._

_I don't remember much after that. I woke up in a holding cell. My dad was going to let me rot in jail, but Deni bailed me out. She never did tell me why. We'd never even talked to each other before that. We started hanging out after that. She'd chew me out when I did something stupid, but when she was done chewing me out, she was sorta nice._

_She also had me do odd chores around her apartment to pay her back for my bail money. I was washing her dishes when she noticed how fast my hands were moving. Then she told me about her "quirk." That explained a lot, like why I could never get away with anything when she asked me about it._

By the time Mohinder finished reading the first note, there were two more waiting for him, and Brighton was out of paper. The kid then started writing on his empty smoothie cup.

XXXXX

Once Peter got Deni away from the crowd of doctors it was easy to figure out what was wrong. His background in nursing, combined with Sylar's intuition of how things work, helped him identify an aneurism in her brain. He knew that if the blood vessel burst she would be dead in minutes. Knowing the aneurism had been caused by an over stimulation of Deni's ability, he couldn't risk letting the doctors near her again until it was fixed. With great care he used telekinesis to make a small incision in her skull and begin the surgery.

XXXXX

Lawrence snagged a roll of toilet paper off the shelf and handed it to Tammy. The poor wretch could hardly get a sentence out without baling all over again. After a long hard blow, Tammy finally continued again.

"She always has these headaches… Sometimes they're worse than others… (sniff) This one was really bad, I could tell. I… (blow) I tried asking w-what I could do… She said to go back to serving drinks." She once again dissolved into wracking sobs.

Audrey was attempting to be sympathetic, but the drama was quickly getting annoying. "Tell us more about the kid. What he was doing here, how Deni knew him, what was said."

"I didn't know he was underage, I swear!" Tammy shrieked. "It was just one Rum and Coke! Please don't arrest me."

Lawrence could tell that patience was not one of Audrey's virtues. "Do you mind if I-?"

"Please do," She conceded.

He quickly pulled up a chair beside the bartender and put a reassuring arm on her back. "We're not here to get you in any trouble. We just want to know where the kid went so we can help him, and your coworker. What can you tell us?"

She wiped her nose with another piece of toilet paper, and took a deep breath. "Deni called him Brighton. She said he lived down the hall from her with his dad. She told me to take my break right after that. I was only in back a few minutes before he followed me into the break room. Deni told him to hide in there."

"That's good, can you describe what he looks like."

"Grey eyes, square face, and… his hair was dyed this bright, bright red. I don't know how he snuck out without anyone seeing him."

The reference of a red Speedy Gonzales flashed through Lawrence's mind. He gave Audrey a glance to confirm his suspicion.

XXXXX

The second note Brighton had written was a detailed description of the conversation between Brighton Sr., and Sylar. The third was an equally detailed description of how his father was murdered. The message on the smoothie cup told of how he'd run to the bar where Deni worked, and the subsequent hiding in the break room. The last note was a crumpled page from a puzzle book, written in Deni's hand.

"Do you…?" Brighton finally chanced to speak. "Do you think she's really coming?"

"She strikes me as a smart woman. I'm sure she has a plan." Mohinder forced himself to sound reassuring for Brighton's sake. He believed Denise had a plan, but the note in his hand indicated that she didn't think she'd survive it. How could she with an ability that around Sylar was even more crippling than her injured knee.

XXXXX

In retrospect Peter would realize that anesthesia probably would have been a good idea. There just hadn't been time to think. He had just finished stitching the blood vessel back together, when Deni woke up. The look on her face was a combination of utter horror, and excruciating pain.

XXXXX

Nathan was beyond frustrated "What do you mean you lost her. How do you lose a patient?"

The paramedic looked strung out and confused. "I don't know how it happened. We were wheeling her in when we all lost hold of her gurney and it just took off down the hall. I tried to catch it, but… It just disappeared. We've been searching everywhere."

A horrific scream echoed from somewhere up the hallway. Nathan, his assistant, and the paramedic turned to see a ravaged woman erupt from a supply closet. She ran aimlessly down the hallway crashing into people and carts blindly.

"There she is," the paramedic stated dumbly.

Nathan caught hold of her as she came near. "No!" she screamed, fighting fiercely against his grip.

"A little help?" Nathan grunted, trying to avoid her flailing limbs.

XXXXX

"I'm suppose to wait here!" Brighton argued when Mohinder tried to convince him to leave.

"The hospital is closing, we can't wait here all night."

"She said she'd come, she'll be here."

"She might not be able to get here right away," Mohinder didn't want to destroy the young man's hope, but he had to make the kid see reason. "We can come back in the morning, in the meantime we'll head to my apartment, and get some sleep."

XXXXX

"The surgery went well," the doctor informed Nathan. "We can't quite explain how the head injury occurred, but we have it sealed up. Bed rest and antibiotics should see her well mended."

"Can I speak with her?"

"She's asleep at the moment, we'll keep you posted as soon as she's awake."

XXXXX

Neither Nathan nor the doctor noticed the door open and close. Peter moved quietly to Deni's bedside. They'd cleaned her up, washed her hair. Carefully he pushed the long brown locks away from her face. Her brow was still knitted, but the rest of her face looked relaxed. A glance at her chart, and the various instruments she was hooked up to, indicated that she was on the mend.

He pulled up a chair, and took her hand in his. "You have to get better, Deni," he said softly. "There's something I have to do, and I need your help to do it."


	13. Chapter 13

**Don't Lie to Me - 13**

Fortunately for Niki, Nathan had had a cot put in his office for those late work nights. It wasn't the most comfortable night's sleep, but it was better than the office chair. She stretched her neck as she opened the door to the rest of the office. She was instantly greeted by the sound of seven guns cocking.

"I just want some coffee. Is there a problem with that?"

The guards lowered their guns slightly, but kept them drawn.

"I'll get it," one of them said. "Keep your eyes on her," he said to the other guards.

Niki was getting tired of the babysitting act, but she couldn't really blame them. She had after all, kidnapped their boss. As she leaned against the doorframe she glanced around the office. It had seemed lively when it was full of people, and noise. Now it seemed stagnant, and way too big.

A figure standing outside caught her eye. She was blonde, dressed in fitted jeans and a pink hoody. She looked like a high school kid. The girl currently had her hands up around her face and was trying to peer into the building.

"Your coffee?" the guard said, holding the steaming 'Vote for Petrelli' mug in front of her.

"Thank you," Niki replied, taking the mug. "Who's that girl?"

He turned to where she was looking. "Rogers, go check it out." The female guard holstered her gun, and went off to question the girl. "Now you, back in the office."

"Fine, I'm going." Niki closed the door behind her, and wondered just how long she'd be quarantined in the glass corporate prison.

XXXXX

As if it wasn't bad enough that every nerve ending in her head felt raw and abused, someone had the audacity to peel open her eyelids and shine a light into her retinas. She turned away with an emphatic groan.

"You're awake," the nurse said.

"I certainly am now," Denise retorted.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit. Go away."

"I'll get you something for the pain."

"I don't want anything, just leave me alone."

"I still have to check your head to make sure the staples haven't pulled out."

"Fine, make it quick."

The nurse tilted Deni's head; examined, and prodded the injury. If Deni weren't already suffering from what felt like the mother of all hangovers, she would have complained about the bedside manner. "If you're up to it you have a visitor," the nurse said in a far too friendly tone.

"Who?"

"Mr. Petrelli."

"Really? Sure, send him in." As soon as the nurse was done fiddling with her head, Deni tried to burry it in her pillow.

"On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain? Ten being the most pain you've ever been in, and one-"

"Seven."

"Do you have an allergies I should be aware of?"

"Assholes."

"Very funny," the nurse said, clearly not amused. "I'll bring you some Vicadin, that should help your mood."

"I told you I don't want any pain killers."

"I'm just trying to make you more comfortable."

"I'd be more comfortable if you just left me alone, so send in my visitor and Get the Hell OUT!"

The nurse finally got the hint and scurried out of the room. Deni wrapped the pillow around her head, trying to ignore the pain. "Why am I here?" She asked no one in particular. "Why am I still alive?"

XXXXX

Nathan barely got any sleep the night before. He was currently slipping in and out of consciousness, while sitting up in the waiting room. Everyone else had been kicked out, but his political pull had allowed him to stay. His cell phone jolted him awake. "Nathan Petrelli speaking."

_"…"_

"Do you want to explain to me exactly what a 16 year old girl is doing hanging around the office?"

_"…"_

"The cheerleader from Texas has come looking for Peter. Of course she has. As if my life weren't complicated enough."

_"…"_

"Anything else I should know about?"

_"…"_

"What about Heidi?"

_"…"_

"No, that was good. Call her back. Tell her I'm busy, but I'll see her tonight. And tell her to pack a suitcase for her and the boys."

_"…"_

"Yeah, plan on a week. Tell her it's a surprise."

_"…"_

"Good, keep me posted." No sooner had he hung up his phone than the doctor came to see him. "Is she awake?"

"Awake, but not happy. She's in a lot of pain, and for some reason she's refusing to take any pain killers."

"Can I talk to her?"

"Follow me. Hopefully you might be able to talk some sense into her."

XXXXX

Every movement jostled her sensitive head, but she finally made it across the room to her clothes. She'd slipped her grungy PJ pants back on, and was in the process of slipping on a boot when she felt Nathan Petrelli approaching.

"Oh, Fuck!" she shouted thrusting her head into her hands while her boot dangled precariously on her foot.

"What do you think you're doing?" The doctor scolded. "You've just had surgery on your skull, you shouldn't even be out of bed for another week."

Deni tilted her head enough to glare at the two. "If I'm to mend in peace, it certainly isn't going to be here, and what the hell is he doing here?"

"This is Mr. Petrelli, your visitor. The nurse told you about him."

"I remember," Denise clipped. "That wasn't the Petrelli I had in mind. Now will one or both of you get the hell out? You're only making my headache worse."

"First you need to take your clothes back off, and lie down."

"Not happening. The moment I lie down and try to rest, you're going to send in another one of your half-wit interns to draw my blood, prod my head, convince me to Take a Pill, and all-together make it impossible to relax. I can be perfectly aggravated while I'm dressed, so no thanks."

"Let me handle this," Nathan suggested to the doctor.

"Good luck," the doctor grumbled before taking leave of the situation.

"You look considerably better from the last time we met."

"It wasn't my best morning."

"You seem familiar, do I know you from somewhere?"

"Not likely." Denise went back to pulling on her boot as Nathan began approaching her. "Whoa, stop!" she cried. "If you're going to be in here, I need you to park it in the far corner."

"Why?"

"Because you give me a fucking headache that's why?"

"Are you always this bitchy?"

"I've been assaulted three times in the last two days. I'm entitled to a bit of bitchiness. What's your excuse?"

"I have exhausted every resource at my disposal to try and keep my family safe. And now, because of Linderman my wife and mother are in danger, and Peter has run off again."

"Ugh. That sucks," Deni commented, pitying Nathan's situation despite loathing him personally.

"I-"

"Didn't mean to say that?" Denise finished for him. "Yeah, I know. Get use to that around me."

"So that's where Pete got it from."

The comment made Denise insatiably curious. "What'd he get you to say?"

"He asked what Linderman wanted. I blurted out that he wanted Peter. Peter just assumed I would do it, and went ghost on me."

"You don't strike me as that cold. An asshole certainly, but not a monster."

"Is that suppose to be a compliment?"

"No. This is going to sound strange, but you don't carry a tazer do you?"

"No," Nathan said with a look that said he agreed that it was a rather off-the-wall question.

"My head is throbbing. If I could just get a shock to the base of my skull it would numb the nerve endings for a bit."

"That's what morphine's for. If you weren't obsessed with pretending to be tough and brave-"

"Brave? If I were brave I'd be dead right now! I could have stopped Sylar so easily, all I had to do was let him take my ability. His own lies would have killed him off. But I couldn't do it. I felt him cutting into my head, and I freaked out, ran away."

"What does any of that have to do with the morphine?"

"I had to give up pain killers seven years ago. I don't want to go through that again."

Nathan studied her for a moment. "I do recognize you. You use to pop aspirin like they were breath mints."

"How do you know that?" she asked, finally pulling on her other boot.

"The first case I ever tried was the People vs. Greg Mathews. You were on the jury."

"Yeah, and my quirky truth vibes made Copper spill his guts on the stand."

"That bit of luck helped jump start my career."

"You just had to ruin a good memory didn't you."


	14. Chapter 14

**Don't Lie to Me -14**

Audrey was sitting on the bed of her hotel room, perusing Haskell's purple notebook. The first page was a journal entry from 1998 describing how Haskell discovered the nature of her ability. The early entries were simply lists of names and the types of vibrations that surrounded each person. Audrey became fascinated with the chapter on criminal vibrations. By sitting in on trials, Haskell had cracked the code and was able to decipher the difference between first degree murder, second degree murder, manslaughter, self defense, accident, and justifiable revenge. Audrey was almost jealous. What an invaluable talent that would be were it not for the excruciating headaches that went along with it. She was finally able to see why Parkman frequently downed handfuls of pills.

She had just gotten to the chapter on vibration neutralization when there was a knock at her door. She quickly pulled on a bathrobe, and went over to the door. Looking through the peep hole she saw Detective Lawrence fretting outside. She opened the door.

"Hanson?" He looked as surprised to see her as she him.

"How did you find me?"

"To be honest, I didn't know I was looking for you."

"So you just randomly walked into a hotel, and started knocking on doors."

"No oddly enough I came right to this one."

"What are you doing here?"

"I think we should visit that Geneticist of yours."

XXXXX

Mohinder was heavily weighing whether or not to wake Brighton. The kid was still sleeping soundly, and Denise Haskell was likely dead anyway. Still, it was unlikely he'd ever forgive Mohinder if they didn't at least wait for her until noon.

Mohinder held the teen's shoulder and shook it firmly. He was greeted by a very blurry delirious expression from Brighton. "The hospital will be open soon."

"Caffeine?"

"That can be arranged." Mohinder went to work preparing a pot of chai tea, while Brighton haphazardly tried to navigate his limbs.

XXXXX

"Miss Haskell?" Inquired a young nurse who was so far doing an amiable job of staying on Deni's good side.

"Yeah?"

"We've tried contacting your brother and there's no answer. I've left a number of messages. Is there anyone else you'd like us to call?"

"Can I think about that for a bit?"

"Sure." As the nurse left, Denise resumed her cold standoff with Nathan.

Nathan actually welcomed the silence, but the recent interchange peaked his interest. "Do your parents live out of state?"

"No."

"They aren't dead are they?"

"No."

"So why don't you-?"

"What time is it?"

"If you want me to drop it, then fine."

"No, what time is it? I'm suppose to meet Brighton and Mohinder before noon."

XXXXX

Mohinder wasn't sure if it was the chai tea, or the five spoonfuls of sugar Brighton had added to it to make it taste better, but the kid was absolutely wired.

"Cool lizard," Brighton called out after zipping over to the terrarium. "What's his name?"

"Mohinder."

"You named the lizard after you? That's kind of lame."

"I didn't name the lizard. My father did. I just inherited the scaly thing after he died."

"Can I feed it?"

"If you can find crickets…" The next sound Mohinder heard was Brighton scurrying down the fire escape. "Fantastic," he whispered irritably. He grabbed his coat and opened the door with the futile intention of chasing after the kid, only to come face to face with Detective Hanson.

"Dr. Suresh," she stated. "I wasn't sure you'd be home yet. Are you going somewhere?"

"I was hoping to meet someone, but unfortunately my houseguest has run off to catch crickets."

Down the hall he could hear Brighton arguing with someone. _"Whatever you think I did, I didn't do it, ok?"_

_"Just calm down, and follow me. I just want to ask you some questions."_

_"Then why did you tackle me?"_

_"You ran into me kid, I just happened to be standing there."_

"That explains where my partner went," Audrey said. "May I come in?"

Mohinder stepped back to let her through. "The list is sitting on the table." Moments later a tall, well-built man in his mid-forties ushered Brighton into the room by the scruff of his neck. "Detective Hanson, this is Brighton Kinsley. He found me yesterday.

Audrey was completely engrossed with the piece of paper on the table. Her partner let go of the kid, and went over to her. "Find something, Hanson?"

She turned to him, and pointed to a name on the list, "Mitchell Lawrence, Jersey City?"

XXXXX

"I thought you said your knee was fine?" Nathan pointed out as Deni limped over to the bathroom.

"I thought it was, but three blocks later proved otherwise."

"Do you want me to get the nurse in here?"

"After I finish changing, and only if it's the one that doesn't piss me off."

Two seconds later Nathan heard Deni collapse with a loud expletive. "What have you done now?"

"I just tripped over your brother!"

It took a moment for the meaning of her words to sink in. He ran towards the bathroom and sure enough, Denise and Peter were in a tangled heap on the floor. He moved to pull his brother into his arms. Simultaneously, Peter and Deni each grabbed their heads in pain.

"Back away!" Denise shouted.

"He's my brother," Nathan yelled back.

"And your proximity is causing him pain."

Reluctantly Nathan backed away. He was suppose to be the one that hugged his brother and made everything ok. He wasn't use to being helpless, let alone the cause of Peter's pain.

XXXXX

"You're Mitchell Lawrence?" Mohinder asked. "I've been trying to contact you all week."

"I've been avoiding my apartment on and off since last Tuesday," Lawrence admitted.

"In retrospect it was probably a good thing," Mohinder said, remembering just who had helped him make all his house calls.

Audrey looked betrayed. "You have an ability and you didn't tell me about it?"

"You wouldn't even let me in the loop until yesterday, and you expect me to tell you everything about me? Besides, it's not exactly something that's easy to demonstrate."


	15. Chapter 15

**To my Fab Five:** (Padme4000, GreenLeoFiend, Bglswrth454, RSegovia, and Death's Scythe Is Love) My apologies for not recognizing your reviews in my last chapters. Your continued support of my fic is greatly appreciated. It is that kind of encouragement that forces me to update no less than once a week, no matter how late I have to stay up on Thursday night.

**katemary77:** Welcome to the elite crew of readers that respond to my story. Thank you for your comments. Sue-ism is one of my most dreaded literary fears, so it's good to know you don't lump me into that category.

**dinonamous:** I was so flattered by your comments. I'm glad you think so highly of my piece. I'm not sure when that moment is coming? Definitely in this day, but I discovered early on that each day is several chapters long.

**Don't Lie to Me - 15**

It had taken a while to disentangle herself from Peter. Deni's bum knee, and her haste to get off him before she could be tempted to feel him up hindered the progress considerably.

"What are you two doing in there?" Nathan called from the other room.

"Nothing worthy of your implied innuendo. Oww!" She shouted out, smacking her head on the toilet. She finally stopped struggling and just held her head. Her moist eyes threatened tears, but she wasn't in the mood to cry.

"Are you ok? Let me see," Peter said, having finally maneuvered out from under her. He moved her hand, and parted her hair to reveal the staples in her scalp. "You just bumped a tender spot. Probably hurts like hell."

"Not great," Deni admitted, "But I've felt worse."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let you leave on your own. I should have been there when he attacked you."

"Peter," She interrupted before he could berate himself further. "You can't catch everyone that falls."

Peter didn't know how to respond to that. It was the first time someone had ever told him he wasn't infallible without insulting him. "I'm just glad you're ok."

"I'll admit it, that surprises me more than anyone."

"Why?" Peter asked with innocent curiosity.

"I'll explain it later. In the mean time I need to change, and if you don't go out there and talk to your brother, he's going to assume I'm molesting you on the bathroom floor."

Peter chuckled, but his eyes still held a glimmer of… was it fear, apprehension? "The reason I found you, is because you're the only person I can trust. Everyone else Nathan, Isaac, Mohinder, even Simone has lied to me."

"Just because someone is dishonest, doesn't mean their intensions aren't good. Now I'll agree your brother is an asshole. He's a lawyer and a politician, what do you expect?"

"You said that the painful vibrations, those are the malicious lies."

"Trust me, that has nothing… well, not nothing, but very little to do with you. Just talk to him."

Deni was relieved when he didn't ask for an explanation. She had learned long ago that some secrets were not hers to reveal. Like the fact that Nathan was not a father of two, but of three, and that he had kept the existence of his first child secret for more than 16 years.

XXXXX

"Are ya hungry?" Leah Rogers asked the young girl lounging in an office cubicle. "I'm taking breakfast orders for everyone."

"A bagel would be great."

"Anything to drink?"

"Chocolate milk?"

"Sure thing."

As the security guard left, Claire began to rummage through here backpack for anything to occupy her time. Everything was still damp from her ride over Niagra Falls. Her hand brushed against a damp fuzzy ear. She quickly grabbed it and pulled out her teddy bear with the Big Apple T-shirt.

Claire instantly thought of her dad. She still didn't know what he really did for a living, probably didn't want to. Still, every time he went away, he had always brought her back a teddy bear to show he'd been thinking of her. This one had been the last, and now here she was: New York City. She had wanted to run away, to find a new exciting life. Now that she had it all she really wanted was her family back.

XXXXX

Not a day went by that Mr. Bennett didn't think of Claire. Where she was, how she was doing, if she was safe. "Am I thinking too loud?" Bennett asked his new partner.

"It's fine," Parkman assured him. "Rather ironic though, for a man who worries so much about his own family, you don't seem to give a damn about anyone else's."

_If I didn't give a damn I wouldn't have contacted your wife, against company suggestion, to let her know that you were safe._

"Really?" Matt asked. "What'd you tell her? What'd she say?"

Bennett mentally kicked himself for thinking implicating thoughts around a telekinetic.

"Fine, go back to thinking in Japanese. See if I warn you the next time your boss tries to trick a confession out of you."

_You're right. I owe you for that one._ Bennett pulled the car to a stop. _I told her you'd recently found a new job running security with Primatech Paper. Your first assignment has you out of state for about a month, so don't be surprised if you don't hear from him._

"So she's ok? Her and the baby?"

"They're fine. This unfortunate fellow," nodding in the direction of the house, "I'm afraid is not."

Both got out of the car. The door of the house was missing, the hinges stripped from the door frame. Inside there were clear signs of a struggle. Glass from a broken trophy case was strewn about the floor. One of the trophies was missing the figure on top. It appeared to have been used as a blunt stabbing weapon from the blood pattern. Probably the victim's early attempt to fight back.

The body was in the bedroom. Young man, about twenty-five, very athletic figure. The guy had been in peak physical condition until his head had been cut open. Abrassions were on the knuckles, no other injuries.

"Who was he?" Parkman asked.

"His name was Jared Haskell. My partner and I tagged him about seven years ago after one of his swim meets. His ability to breath under water allowed him to break every one of his schools records. He later went to Princeton on an Athletic scholarship." _The all-American boy,_ he thought to himself.

Parkman continued to scout the room for any clues. He didn't know what he expected to find. He knew it was Sylar. Maybe there was some clue as to where he'd strike next. The answering machine caught his eye, six messages. He pushed the button.

**Beep.** "Mr. Haskell, this is Dr. Alum at University Hospital of Brooklyn. Your listed as your sister's emergency contact on the medical information we found with her. I don't feel comfortable discussing her condition over an answering machine, so call me back as soon as possible. My number is 555-2186."

Bennett walked over to the answering machine interested. "She's still alive? I thought she would have overdosed by now."

**Beep.** "Mr. Haskell, it's Dr. Alum again. I'm happy to inform you that your sister is awake. She's not very happy though. Understandable, considering her trauma, but I think she would greatly benefit from having a family member's support. Please call."

**Beep.** "Jared, it's Mary. I just wanted you to know that I had a fabulous time last night. Maybe we could do it again tonight? I know this fabulous Japanese restaurant just a few blocks from my apartment. What do you say?"

**Beep.** "Mr. Haskell, it's Dr. Alum. You need to get down here. Your sister is trying to leave the hospital, which is not advisable in her current condition. She's just tossed an IV pole at one of my interns. Please call me."

**Beep.** "Hey Jared! Where the hell are you man? You were suppose to be here an hour ago, you're never late. I know I told you you should take it easy now and then, but I didn't mean today. You know we're presenting our ad campaign to Reebok at 11o'clock. If you aren't here in thirty minutes you can kiss that sweet promotion goodbye."

_**Beep.** "Jared, it's me Deni. I'm still at the hospital. Sigh. I tried calling mom and dad, you can guess how that worked out. Don't worry though, I'll make arrangements. Just… call me as soon as you can. Pause. Your boss says you didn't show up for work today, and I know that's not like you. The guy that attacked me last night… Sylar, he's after people like us. I don't know how he found me or Brighton. Please, call me back. I need to know you're ok. You're all I've got, bro."_

Parkman felt sick. Bennett was right. This guy was the All-American guy; great job, active social life, and a sister who depended on him. Sylar didn't give a shit about any of that. Parkman picked up the phone, and dialed 69. If Jared's sister really was the last person to call, she could be the lead they were looking for. As he was writing down the number Bennett's thoughts caught him off guard.

_People like us? Damnit, Claude. Why couldn't you just tell me it was her?_

Not liking the sound of that last thought Parkman switched the last two digits of the phone number


	16. Chapter 16

-1**My apologies, dear views, for the delay. I'm afraid that writing in a strictly linear fashion is rather new to me. Turns out the bit I was working on doesn't appear for two more chapters, though that means the next two will be finished much more quickly.**

**Don't Lie to Me - 16**

"What is wrong with this kid?" Lawrence was preceding Brighton around the room. Holding objects before the teen bumped into them, catching him before he could fall over.

"I think his caffeine high is finally wearing off," Mohinder hypothesized. "He appears to have an accelerated metabolism. Much like a humming bird he uses very simple energy, and burns it very quickly."

"Dude, did you just call me a humming bird?" Brighton was indeed very wobbly on his feet. His eyes were nearly as blurry as when he'd first woken up. "We need to get to the hospital. It's almost noon."

"What happens at noon?" Audrey asked.

Mohinder took a moment to properly phrase his thoughts. "Ms. Haskell sent Brighton to find me last night. We were suppose to wait for her at St. Clare's until noon, but I suggested we come here for some rest first."

"You might as well stay here she's not going to make that meeting?"

"Why not?" The fear on Brighton's face was unmistakable. In an instant he went from a delirious teen to a frightened child. "She's not dead. Tell me she's not dead."

"She's not dead," Lawrence assured him. "When we got to the bar she was unconscious on the floor. Paramedics rushed her to the hospital. Don't worry, I have a good feeling you'll see her soon." Lawrence looked like he was going to give the kid a reassuring clap on the shoulder, but spontaneously ran to get a chair instead. He returned with it moments before Brighton collapsed back into it.

"Are you precognicient?" Mohinder asked having observed Lawrence's interactions with Brighton.

"I have no idea what that means," Lawrence stated while leaning against the back of the chair.

"Do you see things right before they happen?"

"No, I just have instincts. I once had a craving for pie at 3 in the afternoon. I go to the bakery and end up stopping a robbery. Hanson, I need your phone."

"Why?"

"Call it a hunch."

XXXXX

There was a palpable tension in the air as Peter emerged from the bathroom. Neither brother moved for fear of causing yet another chase. It was Peter that finally spoke first.

"What are you doing here, Nathan?"

"Waiting for you. Every time you get some crazy idea in your head, you chase it down and tackle it. I figured if I kept my eye on her long enough, you'd show up."

"So what happens now. You knock me out, shove me in the back of your car. I wake up a few hour later in a straight jacket?"

"Don't tempt me."

"You'd like that wouldn't you. Just lock me away somewhere so I won't cause you any more trouble. Why don't I call up your buddy Linderman and tell him you have me gift wrapped for him."

"Is that what you think of me?" Nathan could hardly believe these accusations were coming from the little brother who use to hero worship him.

"What am I suppose to think, when you won't stop lying to me?"

"You want the truth?! I would gladly lock you in a padded cell for the rest of your reckless, delusional life if it meant keeping you safe. I endured two weeks of hell, praying to God that you would wake up. And you honestly think I would hand you over to the man that crippled my wife? I'm your brother, Pete. You use to believe in me. What happened?"

Peter knew his brother spoke the truth. With Deni's power coursing through him, it was physically impossible to lie. At that moment Peter wanted nothing more than to hug his brother, to let himself be swallowed in that embrace that made everything ok. It just hurt too much. The vibrations rattled his mind, and he couldn't turn it off.

_You have to get rid of your distractions. Clear your head._ Claude's words rang through his mind. He was able to use an ability, when he remembered someone. Maybe if he could forget for a moment, he could turn it off.

Trying not to think of something never worked for anybody, so instead, Peter concentrated only on his brother.

"Peter?" Nathan called to him wondering what he was doing. His worry began to grow, so he stepped closer.

Peter didn't notice. His eyes remained closed as he focused on his brother.

"Peter," Nathan whispered.

Peter opened his eyes, and found his brother standing right in front of him. "Nathan?" His head didn't hurt. There were no vibrations. "I did it, Nathan. I turned it off." With a look of exhilaration he embraced Nathan. The brothers clung to each other like two people lost at sea. For that precious moment, there was no pending explosion, no Linderman, no world outside that room.

In the next room Denise felt no such comfort. She couldn't turn off the vibrations that reached her through the walls and levels of the hospital. There was no one coming to take her home. She was all alone, broken on the floor of the bathroom, waiting for her brother to call.

XXXXX

_**Seven Years Ago**_

"You look like hell." Mrs. Haskell barked as her daughter came in the door.

"How observant of you, mom. Any other criticism before I unload the car?"

"I don't know why you brought so much stuff with you. One would think you could survive a weekend without your computer."

"I didn't want to leave anything behind," Denise said, avoiding the truth to avoid lying.

"Perhaps if you were a little more social instead of a stuck up snob you wouldn't have to worry about your roommate stealing your things."

"Are you done?" Denise was getting tired of her mom's rant.

"Unfortunately not. I still have two more years of paying for your sorry ass before you finally get on with your own life."

Denise forced herself not to cry as she brushed past her mom. "I'll be in my room." As soon as she was safely behind her own door, she sank onto the bed, and buried her face in her pillow. She didn't know whether she wanted to cry or throw up. Lately she'd been extremely sick. She was constantly nauseas, breaking out in cold sweats, uncontrollable shaking.

There was a gentle knock on the door. "Deni?"

"Come in," she called from behind the pillow.

The door opened a crack. Her younger brother poked his head in. "I heard you come in. You ok?"

Denise couldn't answer, and simply shook her head vigorously, using the pillow to suffocate her tears.

He slipped into the room and closed the door behind him. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Me, as usual."

"Just because our parents are assholes doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you."

"They can't lie, Jared."

"That doesn't make them right. Remember that time dad swore you stole his pager, until he found it wedged behind the dresser?"

"Yeah?"

"So, just because they believe something doesn't make it true."

"Still doesn't change the fact that they hate me."

"They don't hate you."

"Yeah, they do. Mom said so."

Jared clenched his jaw in fury. This was his big sister. She was his hero, the one who taught him chemistry, and how to throw snowballs. Why did he have to be the favorite? Because, he was handsome, athletic, and smart. Deni had always been smarter than him, but her attitude was always getting her in trouble. He sat on the bed beside her, and poked her in one of her most ticklish spots.

Denise sat up with a shriek.

"Well I don't hate you," he announced before tackling her with a crushing bear hug. "In fact you're my favorite big sister. Or big little sister, since you're so short."

"I'm your only sister, and I'm not short. You're just freakishly tall."

"Well you're still my favorite, Shorty."

XXXXX

The sound of her cell phone startled Denise out of her memory. She quickly brought the phone to her ear. "Jared?"

_"Deni?" _It was Brighton.

"Oh, Brighton, I'm so sorry. I know I'm suppose to meet you, but I don't know when I'm going to be able to get out of here."

_"You're ok though, right?" _he sounded so scared.

"A little less than average, but I'll live. Where are you?"

_"With that Mohinder dude. He made this weird tea that tastes like crap. Hell of a buzz though."_

Deni finally noticed the rather delirious quality to Brighton's voice. "Have you had anything else to eat today?"

_"No."_

"Drink some juice before you slip into a coma, then find some protein. Eggs, sausage I don't care. I don't want you running on sugar all day."


	17. Chapter 17

**Don't Lie to Me - 17**

Deni grabbed the sink, and with careful maneuvering managed to stand up. "Pity party's over, Deni," she whispered to herself. She thrust the past to the side, and focused on how she was going to get out of here. Mentally she evaluated her options, and cringed when she realized what that left her with.

She made it to the door way and saw Nathan and Peter sharing a brotherly embrace. Rather than interrupt Deni, decided to quietly observe. Brighton would be fine for a little while longer. After all he had a doctor, and two detectives looking out for him.

XXXXX

"That's a definite improvement," Lawrence observed as Brighton sat calmly, finishing his eggs. "Do you think you're up to answering some questions?"

"About the guy that-" Brighton's throat clenched up on him. He simply finished with a nod.

Mohinder found a notebook, and some pens for him. "He seems to have trouble voicing emotional events, but he can write the answers for you."

"Thanks," Brighton choked out taking the items from Mohinder.

While Lawrence drilled Brighton, Mohinder walked Audrey through his father's research. He took particular care in explaining the 'patient zero' file, his father's work on Sylar, and the 'mosaic file', his own research on Peter.

Audrey let all the information sink in before finally speaking. "How are we suppose to stop him? He can break into or out of any cell we'd put him in. We can't sneak up on him. We've tried shooting him."

"Peter's the only one I can think of with the power to stop him, but unless he has complete control over his abilities, he's potentially more of a danger to others than even Sylar."

They were both slightly startled by a high pitched tone coming from Mohinder's laptop.

"What is that?"

Mohinder lifted the screen to find a news update. "He's killed again. Oh my God.

"What?" Audrey turned to laptop to face her. "Jared Haskell, 25, was found murdered this morning in his home in Brunswick, NY. Though authorities refuse to comment, several pieces of evidence suggest a link to a series of murders that have occurred across the country…"

"You don't suppose this man is any relation to Deni?"

"Are you suggesting it's just a coincidence?"

Both knew that it would be too much to hope for. What bothered Mohinder even more was how Sylar had managed to find the man. Mohinder had kept the list practically under lock and key since Dale died, but Sylar had seen it briefly before that. Was it possible that he had memorized it? Quite possible he realized if one of the people he murdered happened to have an eidetic memory. Dear Kali, he really had murdered them all.

XXXXX

Bennett tried calling the number again, but it kept saying disconnected. "Are you sure you wrote this number down correctly?"

Parkman put on his best poker face. "Star 69 just gives you the last number called, it doesn't mean that person left a message."

"True, but if the last person called today, which I'm assuming they did since the guy's only been dead 9 hours; then it would stand to reason that the number wouldn't be disconnected." Bennett looked at his new partner. Being a fair liar himself, it was easy for him to spot a bad one. "Are you keeping something from me, Parkman?"

Matt knew he was caught. He might as well ask already. "Who's Claude?"

_You heard that?_

"You can't lie to me Bennett, eventually it's going to pop into your head, and I'm going to find out about it."

"Claude was my first partner."

"What does he have to do with this case? What is it he didn't he tell you?"

XXXXX

**Seven Years Ago**

"Can you possibly move any slower?" Mr. Haskell shouted at his daughter as the family exited the car.

"Sure, I could lay on the concrete and use my chin to drag myself along. But that would just be impertinent now wouldn't it?"

"Don't smart-mouth me, Missy!"

Claude, under the cover of invisibility, observed the family as they migrated towards the high school. The son, a strapping 18 year old lagged behind to keep his sister company.

"Are you ok?" he asked her.

"Am I ever?"

"No, but… You don't look so good. Not to be rude, but you look like a zombie."

Claude had to agree with the comparison. Her eyes were dilated, her skin was a sickly yellow. She didn't look as if she'd slept in over a month either.

"The headaches have gotten worse."

"How much worse?" the boy asked throwing a sympathetic arm around her shoulders.

"I couldn't leave my room for two weeks. It's not even midterms yet, and I'm already failing every class."

"Do mom and dad know?"

"Not yet. Please, don't tell them."

"They're going to find out."

"I know, I just want to wait until after your swim meet."

Finally, the boy took off ahead of her. The moment he was out of site, Claude watched her pull a bottle of aspirin out of her pocket. She poured two into her hand, tossed them into her mouth, and began chewing them.

Inside the gym, Claude met up with Bennett. "Charming family life they have. Daughter looks like a drug addict, and the parents are both bickering sods. Our target seems like the only decent one of the bunch.

"In that case, let's try to make this as discreet as possible. I suggest the locker room after the meet. If that doesn't work-"

"I know the back up."

"Good."

Bennett looked every bit the cheering father, sitting in the stands. Too bad he didn't show as much enthusiasm with his own daughter. Claude wondered not for the first time if Bennett considered him a person, or just another one of "Them." He wanted to think the best of Bennett. They were partners after all.

The whistle blew, and eight boys jumped into the water. One of them had a clear lead. Upon inspection one could note that the boy never took his face out of the water. This allowed him to make quicker, more efficient strokes.

"Go Jared! Whoooooo!" the sickly sister called from the sidelines.

Their target touched the wall with the runner up three meters behind him. The bleachers erupted in cheers. Hardly anyone noticed the winner turn his head and discreetly cough up a quart of chlorinated water. While the son graciously ate up the cheers and shoulder slaps, Claude took another glance at the daughter. She was alternating between pinching her brow, and holding her hand over her mouth. Claude nudged Bennett, and pointed out the odd behavior.

"That doesn't look good," Bennett observed. "Keep an eye on her. If something happens to her it could complicate our mission."

Sure enough as the boys were lining up for the breast stroke, the girl excused herself, and dodged out of the gymnasium. Claude waited a moment so as not to appear to be following her. After a quick detour in the direction of the loo, he went invisible and caught up with the girl. She was hunched against the wall, shivering all the while beads of sweat trailed down her forehead. Suddenly she looked right in his direction.

"Who are you?"

_She can see me?_

"What do you want?" she continued, her voice taking on a tone of quiet hysteria. Mild relief filled him as he noticed her eyes making small darting movements around his location. She couldn't see him, but she knew he was there. "You've killed before. Are you going to kill me?" She began stepping backwards, sliding against the wall. "Answer me!"

Fortunately her scream was timed with a round of cheers from the gym, but Claude knew he had to calm her down. "Shhh! I'm not going to hurt you," he said in an urgent whisper.

"Why are you here?"

"We're here for your brother." Claude was stunned to hear the words slip so effortlessly from his throat.

A look of horror crossed the girls face moments before she made a dash for the doors to the gym. Claude caught her easily enough. She struggled ferociously in his grip, but her attack seemed to be more internal, specifically in her head. "You're going to kidnap him, hurt him? Are you going to kill him?"

"Not likely. He's a decent kid, and his ability's neither dangerous, nor particularly useful to us. We just want to see how he works, then tag him. He'll be back in about a week."

"Who's we? I don't feel anybody else."

"So you're a Pseudopath. Very interesting. I suppose that's why you take the pills."

She stopped struggling, so Claude released his hold on her. "I just want the headaches to go away."

"Does it work?"

The girl shook her head, "Not anymore, but if I don't take them it's so much worse."

"That's called withdrawal. You need to get yourself to a clinic."

"Why do you care? You're here to take away the only good person in my life."

"I told you he'll come back. He may have some new bruises, and a bit of-"

Claude was cut off when the girl suddenly doubled over and threw up on the floor. Kneeling on the floor, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, clearly far too use to these symptoms. However; the swirl of red mixed in the bile caught both of their attention. "Oh, Fuck," she quietly exclaimed realizing that she had just regurgitated blood.

"Bloody hell," Claude agreed whipping out his cell phone and summoning an ambulance.

The sirens certainly drew a lot of attention. Exactly what Bennett didn't want. It was suppose to be a quiet operation. Claude on the other hand, knew from experience that diverting a groups attention could be even better. After all, slight of hand was all about misdirection. You keep their eye on the 1st pigeon, they won't see the other one hidden up your sleeve. They see a girl being hoisted onto a stretcher, no one notices the star athlete vanish. A little chloroform, and his famous disappearing act, and the job was done.

"You were suppose to keep her quiet." Bennett said. His tone revealed frustration. "What happened?"

"The girl ODed on me. Was I suppose to let her die quietly in the hallway? Relax this is a good thing. All this panic; it'll be hours before anyone even realizes he's gone."


	18. Chapter 18

**Don't Lie to Me - 18**

The nurse gave a quick courtesy knock before waltzing into the hospital room. Peter took that as his cue to vanish. Nathan wanted to yell at his brother, but his inner diplomat told him not to make a scene. The nurse looked about and finally spotted Deni leaning against the bathroom door.

"Have you thought of anyone else you'd like us to call?" the nurse asked hopefully.

"I've already called, no one else is available. Could I possibly get Mr. Petrelli here to sign my release papers?"

"What?" Nathan gave her an incredulous expression.

The nurse ignored him. "Under the circumstances I think that would be fine. I'll go get the paperwork."

"Oh!" Denise called after the nurse, "I'm also going to need some crutches."

XXXXX

Sylar sank into the tub allowing the warm water to sooth the injuries of the week. First, he'd been thrown through a subway window. Then, he'd been threatened by 12 angry drunks, asking what he'd done to their favorite bartender. Yes, Miss Haskell owed her life to having friends in low places. Then finally, Jared had the audacity to stab him in the neck with a trophy. It was strictly a flesh wound, no major blood vessels. Still the hot water stung as it lapped at the torn skin. How he regretted not taking Claire's ability when he had the chance.

As the water rippled, and trembled about him, his thoughts turned to the new ability he'd just obtained. What was it like to breathe under water? Slowly, he let his head sink below the surface. Deliberately he exhaled, watching the bubbles as they floated to the surface. Then, once there was no air left in his lungs, he breathed in.

It irritated his lungs, but he soon realized it was the temperature, and the heavy concentration of rust that was to blame. Eventually he became acclimated to the taste and smell of soluble minerals with every breath.

A sense of serenity swept through him. Sounds were muffled, and reverberated. Light danced and refracted in the gentle turbulence of the water's surface. Breathe in… breathe out… It was the perfect meditation. Every power he acquired brought him closer to nirvana.

XXXXX

The paint brush hung loosely in Isaac's hand. Lavender oil clung damply to the badger hair bristles. Isaac studied his latest work. It was her again. He had no idea who she was, but he recognized the other figure in the painting.

"Peter?"

The more he looked at it the more it grated his senses. He wanted to smear it out, tear it up, burn it even. He hurled it across the room, and watched it ricochet off the window. Brushes, canvases, buckets of paint; everything that could be physically lifted was thrown in a frantic attempt to vent his rage. _How could he? How could he find it so easy to move on?_

XXXXX

Claire was halfway through her bagel which was buried under a glom of cream cheese. She was glad that Rogers had only gotten her the one as she probably could have eaten a dozen were they available. She heard a raised voice coming from the glass office. The tall blonde woman seamed to be in a heated argument, but she didn't see anyone else in the room. Claire set down her bagel and walked over to the window.

Rogers stopped her before she could go very far. "Hold on there, kid. I'm gonna need you to stay back."

"Why? Who is she?"

"That's Peter Petrelli's therapist."

"What's he need a therapist for?"

"Poor guy has a bad case of depression. Over a month ago now, he tried to kill himself by jumping off a 15 story building."

Claire couldn't believe it. "That doesn't sound like the Peter I know." The man she had met was shy but optimistic. He cared about people he wouldn't just try and kill himself.

"None of us saw it coming either. Genuine nice guy. Don't tell anyone I said this, but I think the world would be better off if people like him ran for congress."

For the first time, Claire started second guessing her decision to come here. After all what was she going to say. 'Hi, Peter, I know you have your own issues, but would you mind letting me crash at your place for a while?'

"No! You listen to me, Jessica. They are not going to let you walk out of here."

Everyone in the office was now watching the woman in the glass office.

Claire got the sinking suspicion she wasn't who Rogers said she was. "If that woman's a therapist, why is she talking to a trophy case?"

"Maybe she has one of those BlueTube phones," The security woman supplied lamely. Claire saw her reach for her gun.

The next noise they heard was shattering glass.

XXXXX

Deni took a liberating breath. Outside the sanitary walls of the hospital, balancing on her crutches, she already felt considerably better. "Why is nearly everyone in the medical profession an asshole?"

"Because they have to deal with people like you," Nathan suggested as one of his security people opened the door to his limo. "Get in."

"And to think I was just beginning to respect you again." Denise scrambled into the limo, with the help of an invisible Peter. Peter reappeared just as he climbed in after her.

The back seat was cramped with Nathan next to the door, Peter in the middle, and Deni wedged against the other door, her injured leg propped on both of their laps.

"Where too?" the driver asked.

"Home," Nathan answered. "I've kept Heidi waiting long enough."

"Whoa!" Deni shouted, "You're taking me to your house?"

"It's ok," Peter reassured her. "Heidi is a sweet woman. Don't know she ever saw in Nathan." Peter dodged a mocking blow from Nathan.

"You don't understand. I can't be within shouting distance of your family."

"Why not?" Nathan asked.

"Have you ever seen the movie Liar Liar?"

"That Jim Carey movie?" Peter realized Deni's point almost as soon as he'd said it. His face took on a priceless scandalized expression.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Nathan asked.

"It's about a lawyer who has to tell the truth for a whole day," Peter informed.

Deni elaborated, "Just imagine what would happen if your loving wife happened to ask some rather probing questions."

"Heidi doesn't ask probing questions."

"Ok," Deni buckled down to make her point. "How about a simple one? How did we meet?"

"You and Peter helped rescue me from the woman I slept with in Vegas." It took Nathan a moment to register what he'd just said. "Ok, point taken." Just then his cell phone rang. "Nathan Petrelli speaking." He seemed to become even more solemn as he listened to his chief of staff. "Change of plans. We need to get to the campaign headquarters now."

As the car took off, Deni slumped against the window trying to catch up on two days worth of sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

_My sincerest apologies dear readers. I never intended to neglect this story for so long. Unfortunately a local tragedy killed my inspiration last month and I've still been recovering from the shock. I'd like to thank you for all the reviews. I'm deeply honored by your continued interest and support._

**Don't Lie to Me - 19**

Niki couldn't believe the energy that was flowing through her. She had just punched through a half inch sheet of glass and didn't feel a thing. She looked at Jessica in the plaque. Yes, Jessica was still there, she had just broken the glass herself. "How?"

"You thought it was just me? Of course you did. You're so weak you wouldn't even think of defending yourself."

"Shut up!" she ordered her alter ego.

The sound of half a dozen weapons being drawn caught her attention. "Get on your knees," one of the guards ordered.

"It's ok, I'm not her."

"On your knees now!"

"They're going to kill you," Jessica stated from the display case.

"Shut up!"

"They're going to shoot you full of holes, and we will never see our son again."

"I said get on your fucking knees!" The guard was serious.

"If you want to live, pretend like you're playing along."

Slowly Niki sank to the floor, the guards closed in around her, all of them with weapons aimed to kill. Between two of the guards she noticed a girl looking at her, a blonde teenager with a look of fear. It brought on a sense of nostalgia. She didn't remember that much of her childhood, Jessica had protected her from it.

"Now when I tell you, do exactly as I say."

XXXXX

The driver took a sharp turn and Deni's head smacked against the window. She groaned quietly, but was too tired to do anything else. Peter put his hand behind her head and brought it gently to his shoulder. She quickly drifted off again.

"Where do you find these friends of yours?" Nathan asked as he reapplied the makeup to hide the bruise around his eye.

Peter mentally chuckled at the sight of his macho older brother putting on makeup, then again a politician wouldn't want to explain just how he got a black eye. "On the subway. I drew a picture of the future. There wasn't a lot of detail to go on, but I ended up saving her from Sylar."

"Wasn't that the guy that tried to kill the cheerleader?"

Peter nodded.

"Bastard certainly gets around. He probably followed your cheerleader here to New York."

"Claire's here?"

"Claire?" Nathan felt his heart stop upon hearing the name.

"Yes, the cheerleader, her name is Claire. She's here?"

"She's hanging out at the campaign office, looking for you apparently." _Just a coincidence_, Nathan told himself. There had to be thousands of high school girls from Texas named Claire.

"This can't be just coincidence." Peter said in a flat tone as he gazed out the window.

Nathan wondered if his brother was reading his mind, or reacting to the truth vibes. "What are you talking about, Pete?"

"I saw Niki in my dream before I ever met her. Now she's here in New York, along with Claire."

"You're not going to explode."

"You don't know that."

"You won't, because I won't let that happen." Nathan closed the compact then gave his brother a questioning look. "Have you told _her_ about your little exploding problem."

"Not yet, between everything she's been through there just hasn't been time."

Nathan noted that Peter was absentmindedly stroking her hair, and massaging her knee. "Peter, I know you're still messed up over Simone, but clinging to the next woman that falls into your lap is not the way to deal with your issues."

"This from the man that had an affair in Vegas."

"I screwed up, Pete. If you won't learn from your own mistakes, then at least learn from mine. A one night stand will only complicates things."

"Don't worry, I wasn't planning on it. I just need her help."

"Pete, you may think that because no one can lie around her that she's going to believe everything you say. Even if she does, if you tell her that you're a bomb that's going to blow up New York, what makes you so sure that she won't just run the other way."

"For one thing I can barely walk, thanks to you Amazon Girlfriend," answered a groggy voice from Peter's shoulder.

Nathan glanced down to see a pair of disgruntled eyes staring at him through strands of soft brown hair. "I thought you were asleep."

"You have one of those voices that is impossible to tune out."

XXXXX

Brighton hated cars. He felt like a fly inside a jar, eager to take flight but constantly hitting the wall. He wanted to get out and run, but Mohinder had insisted they stay together. At least they weren't gridlocked in rush hour traffic, that would have driven him completely insane.

"Why can't I just meet you there?"

"Deni appointed me to take care of you, and I can't do that if you're three blocks away, besides we're almost there."

"Finally!" Brighton exclaimed emphatically. Up ahead he could see the patriotic banners that adorned the Petrelli campaign office. Desperate for fresh air he dodged out of the moving cab.

"Brighton!" Mohinder shouted after him, but the youth had already zigged across two lanes of traffic. Meanwhile the cars behind him at the traffic light were laying on their horns. Frustrated he slammed the door shut, and continued driving. Only fifty yards to go, how much trouble could the kid get into in that short amount of time.

Brighton stretched his limbs in an exaggerated manner. He knew he shouldn't show his ability in public but he couldn't resist ducking in between people as they were about to bump shoulders with him. People were assholes, he got that, but if they were in such a hurry, they could bump into someone else.

A campaign office, why that old cop thought they should come here he had no idea, the place looked as dead as a burned out crack house. Brighton shuddered at that particular analogy, bad memories. He still loved to party; the music, the lights, stupid stunts, and sweet moves, but the withdrawal he could do without. He didn't say it often, but having Deni take him under her wing was one of the best things that ever happened to him. He probably should have stayed in the car, for her sake, but really what was the harm. It wasn't like someone was going to attack him in the middle of the street.

At that particular moment two blonde women came crashing through the front window of the office. As they stood up he could see that the taller one seemed to be holding the shorter one hostage.

"Hey!" he shouted catching their attention.

After glancing around, the taller one took off running. Brighton hurried over to the woman that remained. He was surprised to realize she was actually younger than himself.

"You ok?" he asked, noticing a trail of blood on her face.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said with a southern accent, as she turned her face away from him.

"It's ok," he assured. "My friend, he'll be here soon, he's a doctor… well a scientist anyway, but I'm sure he knows first aid." Using just a touch of extra speed he managed to catch her chin and turn her face towards him. She quickly pulled away again, but not before Brighton got a good glimpse of the enormous gash across her cheek that seemed to be healing itself.

At first he was stunned, but then his skinny face broke into a wide grin, "That is so cool!" he exclaimed.

Half a dozen armed guards suddenly came over to the broken window apparently aiming at Brighton. Scared wittless, he immediately put his hands over his head.

That was when Mohinder finally pulled up to the curb. "Dear God!" he shouted, slamming the door and coming around the car. "Five minutes and you still manage to find trouble."

"Don't look at me!" Brighton yelled still holding up his hands. "Some psycho blonde decided to jump through the window!"

Mohinder looked over at the young woman standing beside him.

"Not her!" Brighton corrected. "There was another one that went running down that way. He gave a vague wave with one hand.

When the guards heard this they immediately lowered their weapons, an couple cursed, and most of them seemed to be favoring different limbs.


	20. Chapter 20

**Don't Lie to Me - 20**

"What the hell happened?" Nathan demanded of his security advisor upon seeing the gaping hole in the side of his campaign office.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Petrelli. Miss Sanders took the young lady hostage and jumped through the window. It's a miracle the kid's still alive."

Nathan looked over at the kid in question. Her clothes were wrinkled and dirty, as if she'd worn them for a few days, but there was no mistaking the face. Just one look at it was enough to break his heart. She was talking to Mohinder, and some freak with comic-book-red hair. Suddenly she turned his way and her face lit up. His heart melted at that look.

"Peter!" she cried out.

"Claire!" Peter had just climbed out of the car. He quickly walked over to greet 'the cheerleader,' oblivious to his brother's dilemma.

Nathan needed to get his eyes off Claire, so he turned his attention to the car. Denise still hadn't gotten out so he glanced inside to check on her. Her leg was still propped on the seat and her head was in her hands.

"You ok?"

"Comparatively," she answered in an annoyed tone. "Just give me a minute… This is why I hate politics."

Nathan had to give a grin at that. He had a fair idea of the multitude of lies that swam about his office. Finally she managed to shimmy out of the car, and get her crutches beneath her.

XXXXX

Claire had given Peter a warm hug in greeting. In a world that was coming apart, it was one pure moment. "I never thought I'd see you again," Peter confessed.

"You think you can just save someone and walk away?" Claire joked, punching him lightly in the arm.

Peter laughed along until he met eyes with Mohinder's. He was still wary of the scientist that had written him off as a nutcase. "Did Nathan ask you to come here?" he asked.

"No," Mohinder assured. "I'm here for Miss Haskell. She asked me to look after her friend." The red head gave a mocking wave. Mohinder didn't know how to convey his regret. All he'd wanted was to prove his father right, and he'd driven away the one person that had come to him with the proof. "I'm sorry, Peter. I should have believed you."

Peter had never been one to hold a grudge. He knew that Mohinder was sincere. Reluctantly his lips pulled into a lopsided smile. "You wouldn't be the first person to think I was crazy."

Brighton was clearly getting bored with the conversation. "So it looks like the scientist is the only member of this sad posse that didn't sleep in his clothes." Everyone looked down and gave an acquiescent shrug.

XXXXX

"So that's the cheerleader?" Deni asked.

Nathan only nodded, not trusting his mouth to keep his secret.

"This certainly complicates things."

"You have no idea," Nathan slipped.

Deni gave him a searching look. "Four misfits, going into hiding from a brain stealing serial killer; one of which is my recently orphaned 19 year old neighbor who's as wired as a circuit board. Another of which is a rather attractive teenage girl. Add to that the fact that I'm an angry cripple, and your brother might explode, what exactly am I missing here?"

Nathan kept his teeth tightly clenched. The thought of the grungy red head touching his daughter made him scrape enamel.

Denise flicked her gaze between Nathan and the Claire, when suddenly it clicked. "Oh," she uttered, quite shocked. "Does she know?"

XXXXX

"What do we do now?" Claire finally asked. She honestly hadn't thought much past finding Peter.

"I've been thinking about that," Peter said. "I think I know a place we can stay."

Brighton chimed in, "When are we going to eat."

"You just ate!" Mohinder stated incredulously. It had been a fairly large plate of eggs.

"That was half an hour ago."

Mohinder gave Peter a conciliatory look, "Good luck keeping up with this one."

"I'm kinda hungry too," Claire admitted, "I only had a bagel for breakfast."

Peter paused to think, and swept his hair out of his eyes. "Let me talk to Deni, then, we'll head out."

They'd all turned their attention to Deni just in time to hear her tell Nathan, "Go Fuck Yourself!" She was hobbling away as fast as her crutches would allow.

Nathan quickly caught her by the arm and whispered something in her ear. Her response was an elbow to the gut, followed by yet another punch in the eye. Nathan's security quickly threw her against the hood of the car.

"Let her go," Nathan told them. "She just got out of the hospital."

"Are you ok, Mr. Petrelli?" asked a security guard.

"Just get me some ice."

In an instant Peter and Brighton were at Deni's side, helping lift her off the car and back onto her crutches.

Deni knew how to fight; it came from working in a bar. Still, Brighton had only seen her deliberately hit one other person, which ironically enough happened to be his late father. "What did he say to you?" He asked with a tone of amazement.

"Nothing you need to worry about. The man just has a talent for pissing me off."

"Are you ok?" asked Peter.

Denise was growing exceedingly tired of the question. "Just get me out of here before I try to kill him."

They managed to get everyone squeezed into Mohinder's cab. Deni once again in the back with her leg propped up. Peter sat in the middle with Claire next to him. Brighton was turned around in the front passenger seat observing the way Peter appeared to be fondling Deni's knee. "How come he gets to sit in the back with the women?"

Deni gave an aggravated reply. "Because my knee hurts like hell, and you fidget too much. Now turn around and buckle up."

Mohinder let out a breath of relief as he pulled into traffic. _Finally there was somebody who could control the tempest._

XXXXX

**Seven Years Ago**

Denise lay silent on the hospital cot. Her wrists were buckled to the side of the bed; a precaution the nurses had taken after her outburst. At least that's what they called it.

The woman had come in to draw blood. The constant headache Deni had been fighting doubled in intensity. Now that Deni understood what the vibrations were, she could immediately identify the nurse as a child beater. She'd screamed and fought, trying to escape the pain of the woman's mere presence. Instead she'd only gotten herself shackled to a bed. There was now a wide purple bruise where the nurse had jabbed the needle into her arm.

There was a knock at the door. _Dr. Worthington_, he was the only one that acted sympathetic. That was probably due to the fact that he was still fairly new. It wasn't just a job to him yet, he was still saving people. "Hey, Denise, how are you feeling?"

"The same."

The doctor pursed his lips. "I have your test results. Do you want to wait for your family to get here?"

"They're at home waiting for news on my brother. My mom thinks it's my fault he went missing."

The doctor placed his hand over hers; trying to give the smallest bit of comfort.

"It's really bad isn't it?"

"The blood you saw was from a bleeding ulcer. All the aspirin you've been taking has burned a hole in your stomach."

Denise gave a small relieved chuckle, "That's it? You really had me worried."

The doctor squeezed her hand gently. "There's more. When your blood test came back…"

"What? Just say it."


	21. Chapter 21

_Thank you to all my dedicated reviewers whose continued patience I repeatedly test. I adore all your reviews, support, questions, and criticisms. I'm afraid that there are two decidedly different groups of reviewers that cause me to wage war with myself, those that want me to update quickly, and those that inspire me to write well. I'm afraid this chapter is a poor compromise._

_A very special thanks to Calany, I'm now on someone's favorite Author's list. I think that was the highlight of my year._

**Don't Lie to Me - 21**

Denise was out cold, slumped against Peter's shoulder. Mohinder was concentrating on the road. Brighton was making a valiant effort to keep still; Deni had promised that he could throw a light switch rave once they reached their destination.

This left Claire with a dreary sense of déjà vu. She was once again riding along in a silent car, letting someone else control her destiny. The only significant difference was there was now a foot in her lap.

Peter noticed her apprehensive stillness and broke the silence. "Is this your first time in New York?"

"Yeah. I thought it would be a lot different. All the lights and glamour, you know?"

"It's there," said Peter, slipping off into his dream reality. "You just have to know where to look. There's actually a perfect spot on the roof of the place we're headed."

"Fucking Casanova," Brighton muttered from the front seat.

Both Peter and Claire turned to the disgruntled teen. "What did you say?" Claire demanded.

Brighton twisted in his seat so that he could face Claire as he spoke. "I'm just pointing out, that the guy's spouting off poetry while he has another woman draped in his lap."

"He was just being nice."

"Yeah right."

"Are you jealous?" Claire accused.

"As if! It's cramped enough up here, I wouldn't want to be squished between the two of you."

"Then what is your problem?!"

"My problem is Deni is like a sister to me, and this guy is practically feeling her up in the back seat!"

"I am not feeling her up," Peter defended.

"But you want to."

"Yes," Peter was as surprised as anyone by his answer. He quickly balled up his hands, maintaining only the minimum contact their seating arrangement required.

"Thought so," Brighton twisted again, and slumped down in his seat.

Mohinder who had been a reluctant audience to the exchange, finally added his two cents. "So much for the virtues of honesty."

XXXXX

"Miss Juarez?" the club owner pondered for a moment. "Oh, you must mean Cinnamon. She's on stage right now. Anything I should be worried about?"

"No," Detective Hanson assured. "We just need to ask her some questions."

Lawrence spotted her right away. Tina Juarez was a Hispanic woman in her early thirties. While uncharacteristically mature for a stripper she was indisputably erotic in her fringed negligee and curly auburn wig. Her performance appeared to have inspired a bidding war between a stocky trucker, and a skinny Asian tourist.

XXXXX

Peter had been doing his best not to associate emotions with the people he interacted with, but the exchange with Brighton had brought his thoughts inescapably to Deni, and his feelings towards her. He knew that he found her refreshing, and funny in her own blunt way. He admired her strength, and her candor. She'd made it clear that she liked him, but didn't push when he'd said he wasn't ready.

Ready for what? He could die in a matter of days. If there was anything left to live for it was here in this cab. Maybe it was still too soon, but he was never one to wait around when it came to his feelings.

His personal revelation was cut short as the vibrations in his head began to grow. Static was everywhere, he felt needle like pricks across the surface of his brain, and a pulsing at the base of his spine so intense it made him gasp.

"Peter?"

Claire's note concern jolted Brighton from his private grumblings. He looked up in the review mirror, then whipped about in his seat to get a better look. "Uh, Dude?" he said nudging Mohinder. "I think we need to pull over."

Mohinder looked over his shoulder, and was engrossed by the sight of Peter doubled over, clutching his head with one hand. "He's absorbing Denise's ability."

"Shit!" Brighton shouted before quickly grabbing the wheel. "When I said pull over I didn't mean into another car!"

Mohinder eventually navigated the car to safety. Brighton was out instantly helping Claire out of the car, Mohinder quickly followed, and helped Peter from the back seat.

"We need to get him away from a lot of people," Brighton said, taking one of Peter's arms. "How about that Art Gallery? That place looks dead."

"Maybe you should wait in the car."

Brighton gave Mohinder a scathing look. "Oh, of course you think it's all my fault." He tossed Peter's arm off him. Peter suddenly crumpled against Mohinder. "Fine! Take him. I'll stay here and baby-sit."

Mohinder bit back a sarcastic reply. He didn't know how much was the young man's natural attitude, and how much was Miss Haskell's influence, but arguing with Brighton wouldn't do Peter any good.

Sure enough, as Mohinder led Peter away, Peter showed dramatic improvement. Brighton looked surprised then turned to Claire. "Damn! What'd you do? Kill somebody?"

Claire responded by slugging Brighton in the shoulder.

"Oww!" Brighton rubbed his arm in an exaggerated manner. "You and Deni are gonna get along great… If she ever wakes up again."

The two teenagers tried to ignore each other but the silence was broken by the sound of Claire's stomach. "Great the five of us can't even endure a car ride together and I'm starving."

Brighton looked around. "I've still got some cash on me. Street meat ok with you?"

"Street meat?"

"It's what we call anything that comes off a street cart." Carefully he shook Deni's uninjured leg until she woke. "I'm grabbing some food, want some?"

"Yeah… Where is everyone?"

"Emo Dude started leeching off your Jedi mind tricks and did a mind meld with Goldy Locks, so Dr. Button up took him for a breather."

Claire gave Brighton another confused look, and asked Deni, "Did any of that make sense to you?"

"Unfortunately yes." She turned back to Brighton, "Do you have money?"

"Yeah, still have what you gave me earlier."

"Ok, take your time."

A meaningful glance passed between the two, and Brighton zipped off.

Claire flipped out. "What is going on? What happened to Peter?"

Deni scooted to the edge of the car seat, and stretched her neck. "Ok, I'm assuming you know what Peter can do."

"Yeah, he copies what other people can do."

"Ok, so how much do you know about what I can do?"

"Only that no one can lie around you?"

"It's actually a two parter, I can also feel everything deceptive a person has ever said or done."

"So if you were near someone who killed someone?"

"I'd have a fucking migraine, and I'm pretty close right now."

"I didn't-"

"I know… I hate asking personal questions so I'll make this as quick as possible. Have you ever hurt someone really bad, but for a very good reason?"

"…Brody Mitchum. He was the quarterback. We were at a pre game bonfire. I thought he liked me, until… until he tried to…"

"I got it. What'd you do to him?"

"I pretended I didn't remember anything, asked him for a ride home, and drove his truck into a wall."

"Wow!" Denise whispered while massaging her neck. "Yeah, that definitely falls into the category of justifiable revenge. Doesn't actually hurt, but it's an extremely intense vibration. Combine that with the rest of the fuzz floating around the car no wonder Peter freaked out."

"The fuzz?"

"No one's perfect. Trust me, perfect honesty leads to a shitty social life. Mohinder's no exception, and Brighton use to be quite the juvenile delinquent."

Claire scoffed. "And yet he was so self righteous when Mohinder hinted it was him."

"Well he is 19."

"So?"

"Most of your vibes fade away at 18."

"Why?"

"Hell I don't know for sure. I think it's because kids aren't fully aware of the consequences of their actions. Don't look at me like that. I think you're incredibly mature for your age, but personally, I would have castrated the bastard, not wrecked his car."

"Hotdogs ladies?" Brighton returned bearing steaming foot longs. He handed the first one to Deni which was decked in onions ketchup and mustard. Then he handed a plain hotdog to Claire, "Wasn't sure how you liked them, but I snagged a bag of condiments."

Everyone was happily gorging themselves on the greasy hotdogs when Deni's cell phone rang. Denise hastily pawed at her jacket pocket trying to get to her cell phone. "Finally!… wait? I don't recognize this number." Cautiously Deni opened her phone and put it to her ear. "Hello?"

"_Denise Haskell?"_

"Yes?"

"_This is Mr. Bennett. We spoke about seven years ago about your brother?"_

XXXXX

The next thing that Bennett heard was the sound of a delivery truck driving over the phone. He pulled his ear away from the loud, unorthodox disconnection.

"What happened?" Parkman asked.

"She threw the phone into traffic."

"She definitely remembers you then."

"At least we know she's still alive."

"But we have no idea where. I told you I should have called."

"It doesn't make sense. I visited her in the hospital. She thought I was a detective looking into her brother's disappearance."

Matt shrugged, "You sure about that? Do you even know what this woman's ability is?"

"No, Claude must have coached her well, she's kept completely off the radar."

"So we have nothing."

"No. I think she's in New York, and…"

"And what?"

Bennett didn't dare say it out loud. _I swear I heard Claire's voice in the back ground._


	22. Chapter 22

**Don't Lie to Me - 22**

"What the hell was that?" Brighton asked after Deni chucked her phone into the street.

"He found me."

"Who?" Claire asked worriedly.

Deni ignored her. "Brighton? Do you have you're ID on you?"

"No. I was in a bit of a hurry if you remember," the redhead retorted sarcastically.

"Shit!" she muttered digging into her jacket pocket. "That means a plane is out, and I know how you hate busses."

"What are you talking about?" Brighton was beginning to freak out.

"Where are we going?" Claire wasn't much better.

"Not we," Denise said, looking at Brighton, "Just you."

"What?! No!" Brighton looked stricken.

"He found me, Brighton! Do you know what that means? It means he's probably already here. He could snatch me off the street at any moment, and if he finds out about you? …If he finds you, you will be running for the rest of your life."

"In case you've forgotten, I can run pretty damn fast. What about you? Once you ditch me at a bus stop, do you have a plan, or are you just going to beat him off with your crutches."

Claire had tried several times to get some answers, but Deni and Brighton were locked in a battle of wills. As a result, neither of them even noticed when she slipped away to go get Peter.

"I can't even begin to worry about that until you're safe."

"You talked around that answer."

He'd caught her, and she couldn't deny it.

"You're giving up? You're just going to let him catch you, stick a needle in your neck, cut you open-"

"I'm not giving up! But the chances of outrunning a government agent, a serial killer, and a schizophrenic hit woman in my condition are pretty damn slim, and that's _if_ Peter doesn't explode. We'll both be safer if the only ass I have to worry about is mine."

"Now is not the time for rash actions."

Deni eyed him suspiciously for a moment, "Where the hell did you learn a word like _rash_?"

"That cop dude that came to visit Dr. Button Up. He has this weird spidey-sense thing. He told me to say that if you started freaking out."

"Really?" Brighton was glad to see Deni's nerves giving way to her usual analytical demeanor. "Did this… cop say anything else?"

"Something about puzzles. I think he said that you had to 'put the pieces together'?"

"Great!" Deni exclaimed rolling her eyes. "Talk about a stab in the dark." Denise suddenly became aware of the lack of vibrations in her head. "Where'd Claire go?"

"I don't know. You were suppose to be the one watching her."

"Shit!"

XXXXX

**Seven Years Ago**

"You think Deni had something to do with my kidnapping?" Jared couldn't believe what he was hearing. "That's ridiculous. She would never do that."

Mrs. Haskell had never seen her son so angry. "Honey it was all too convenient. She was rushed off to the hospital, creating a scene just as someone decided to snap you up."

"She's sick! There is nothing convenient about it? Where is she? I want to see her."

"She's still at the hospital," Mr. Haskell answered his son. "I've been meaning to check in on her, but your mother and I were just so worried about you…"

"You haven't been to see her at all?" Jared grabbed his school jacket and rushed out the front door of their town house.

Mr. Haskell ran after him. "Jared, wait! You just got home."

Jared turned on his father. "No. You have two kids, dad. Two, or none. I'm sick of being your favorite. It's not Deni's fault the condom broke."

Mr. Haskell turned pale as all the blood drained out of his face. "Where did you hear that?"

"That's why you hate her, right? She forced the two of you together. Deni overheard you and mom arguing."

"Denise is not the easiest person to love. She gets that from your mother. That doesn't mean I don't care."

"Are you coming with me then?"

_Meanwhile at the hospital_

Deni didn't care if she had to chew her arm off, she was not spending one more day strapped to that bed. Fortunately it didn't look as if she'd have to resort to quite such drastic measures. Her persistent nausea over the last week had caused her to lose a significant amount of weight, and now with no little amount of tugging, and wrenching, she almost had one hand free. One final tug was accompanied by a dull popping sound. Denise clenched her teeth to muffle her shout at the pain of dislocating her thumb. Gingerly she brought her hand to her face, took her thumb in her teeth and popped it back into place.

"Not so bad," she quietly assured herself. After all, when your head is in constant agony, a dislocated thumb is nothing.

As quickly as she could, Deni unbuckled her other wrist, and slid off the cot. It took her a moment to steady herself. Her week of confinement had left her weak, and dizzy. She was halfway to the door when a new set of intense vibrations rattled her skull._ Murder… of a close friend, very recent._ There was something else about the vibe she'd never felt before, but she didn't want to stay and find out. She scrambled to turn the doorknob, and took off down the hallway. The staff shouted orders to each other as they tried to catch her. Too late, she realized that she was running towards the source of the vibrations when a man in blue-grey suit, grabbed her by the arm.

"Going somewhere, Miss Haskell?" the man asked.

Deni fell to the floor clutching her skull.

Her favorite doctor was standing beside him, talking very rapidly. "I have no idea how she got out here, we've been keeping her restrained.

"This might have something to do with it," the man said holding up her chaffed, bruised wrist. "What's wrong with her?"

"She's still detoxing from an addiction to painkillers; rather unfortunate since liver failure is incredibly painful. Are you sure you couldn't do this another time, Detective Bennett?"

"The longer I wait, the colder the trail will get."

"Of course."

As the two men dragged Deni back to her room, she became aware of two things. The first was that she no longer had a favorite doctor. The second, was that the man in the suit was absolutely _Not_ a police officer. She screamed out a string of expletives as they re-buckled her restraints.

At Bennett's request, the doctor left them alone. Deni glared at him, furious, terrified, and exhausted. "What do you want?"

The man pulled something out of his jacket pocket. "I need to ask you some questions about your brother's kidnapping."

"I've already talked to the police about that. I'll say it again. My dramatic exit was nothing more than a shitty coincidence."

"I wasn't suggesting anything of the sort. Have you ever seen this man?" Bennett held out a 3x5 photograph of a man in his mid-thirties.

"No."

"This is the man who kidnapped your brother. His name is Claude Raines. Take a closer look."

Denise obliged, scrutinizing every detail of the photo. The man had shoulder length blonde hair, blue eyes, and a prominent nose. "No, I've never seen him. Then again, I wasn't studying everybody while I was puking up blood."

"Understandable." Bennett gave off a pleasant, compassionate smile, but Deni still eyed him with suspicion. "He's a smooth operator, practically invisible the way he works. Perhaps you heard his voice. Have you heard anyone recently speak with a British accent."

"I just flunked out of MIT. All of my professors had an accent." Technically it wasn't a lie, just talking around the truth.

"I'm not concerned with your professors, I'm talking about the day of your brother's swim meet. Did you experience anything strange, see anything that might be described as supernatural?"

_Damn! No manuvering around that._ "Maybe." _Or maybe there was._

"Maybe?"

"The doctors would say it was just a hallucination, they happen when you overdose on aspirin."

"Just describe what happened."

"My head was throbbing, so I stepped out to take a handful of pills. I heard a man talking, but I couldn't see anyone. Then it/he grabbed me. I screamed, but no one heard me."

"Did he say anything to you?"

Denise selected her words very carefully. "I can't remember word for word. Mostly he was trying to calm me down, keep me quiet. I remember he used the word 'we'. I think he had a partner."

"We're not worried about his partner. Did he say anything else to you?"

Deni's evaluation flashed through her mind again. _Murder… of a close friend, very recent._ She was right, he wasn't a cop. "He mentioned I should get myself to a clinic. I threw up soon after that. Looks like his advice was a little too late."

"Have you had any contact with him since then."

"No. This is of course assuming I didn't imagine him in the first place."

Bennett seemed satisfied with her answers. He thanked Denise for her cooperation, and stepped out to make a phone call.

"It's Bennett. I've just finished questioning the sister of our last target… No, I don't think she's the one… There's nothing worth hiding. Her liver is failing. The doctor's say without a transplant she won't last four months… I don't think we have to worry. Everything she says and does is dismissed as withdrawal symptoms. She's convinced the entire encounter was a hallucination… Yeah, I'll be on the next flight out."

XXXXX

Peter was feeling much better, but there was still a mild buzz behind his nose that just felt strange. "I don't know how she does it. Could you imagine if every person you met gave you a migraine?"

Mohinder sympathized. While pursuing his father's researched he'd imagined a time or two what it would be like to have an ability. He didn't even want to imagine what Deni's ability did to her on a daily basis. "Perhaps in light of what's happened, you might reconsider my offer to help you. I could create a localized inhibitor to block your abilities until you learn how to control them."

"What if Sylar finds us again? I'm the only one that can stand up to him. Deni can't even move when he's close."

"And if you're channeling her ability, when he finds you? What will you do then?"

Peter pulled his bangs out of his face, and tucked them behind his ear. He had to admit Mohinder made a good point. "This inhibitor, would it block all of my abilities, or just some of them."

"It's hard to know at this stage. With time, I could probably customize it to block or allow any combination of abilities." Mohinder could see Peter swaying to the idea. "This inhibitor… it wouldn't just help you. It could help hundreds of people with abilities they don't want, or can't control... people like Deni."

"Alright," Peter agreed. "I'll be your guinea pig."

"Peter!"

Both men turned as Claire came running into the gallery. The intensity in Peter's head increased, causing Peter to grip the back of his neck. Claire stopped, and shouted her message across the room.

"You have to come quick. Deni just got a strange phone call, and now she's flipping out."

"Flipping out how?" Peter asked.

"She keeps saying that 'He found her,' and she's arguing with Brighton about how to get him out of the city."

Moments later Brighton burst through the door. He caught sight of Claire's blonde head, zipped out, and zipped back in again launching into a rant. "I finally talked some sense into her, and then you have to disappear! She started freaking out all over again!"


	23. Chapter 23

**Don't Lie to Me - 23**

Mohinder had agreed to take the two teens in the car, and Peter would teleport ahead of them with Denise. Deni was grasping at her last strand of sanity as she said goodbye to Brighton. "Two more things. I know you like to find creative ways to amuse yourself when you're bored, and the presence of a lovely 16 year old girl might be giving you some ideas, but-"

"What do you think I'm going to do? Feel her up with Dr. Button-up watching in the rear view mirror? She's not even my type."

"Just be a gentleman."

"I got it. And the last thing?"

Deni shifted her crutches to one arm and pulled Brighton into a fierce hug. "If anything happens to you I'll go out of my mind. Please, promise me you'll be safe."

Claire stood with Mohinder watching the scene. "Strange, neither of them struck me as the huggy type."

"Physical contact is a basic human need. Some people try to deny it, but we crave a sense of connection to others especially when we feel threatened."

"Is that why everyone has sex after funerals?" Brighton chimed in, joining Claire and Mohinder.

"What did I say about being a gentleman!" Denise shouted across the room.

"It was a hug. It's not my fault he made it sound dirty. Can we go already?"

XXXXX

"You might want to stand back," Detective Lawrence warned.

Audrey was having none of it. "You've done some good work, but this is still my case." As she approached the stage where the Asian man was pulling another $20 out of his wallet, she began to wonder why the room was suddenly warmer. Cinnamon was currently executing an amazing move in which she hung upside down with her legs wrapped around the pole. Audrey nearly fell over as her skin began to tingle. Her stomach began to knot, her breath grew short, and her body felt like it was being caressed all over in a very intimate way.

Lawrence was tempted to ask just how long it had been since she'd had a good orgasm, but instinct told him that comment would rank even lower than an 'I told you so.' Instead he pulled out his badge and held it up so the limber woman could see it. "Miss Juarez? A word please."

Gradually the intense arousal surrounding the stage dissipated. The stocky man that had been bidding against the skinny Asian, got up and headed towards another stripper.

XXXXX

Deni waited until the car was out of sight to let her brave face drop. Then everything dropped. She collapsed to the floor, gulped in air, and let out a nerve shattering scream. Peter was beside her in a heartbeat. He wrapped his arms around her and whispered reassurances in her ear.

"It'll be ok."

"No it won't. It's too much. The fear, the hiding, the constant pain. He's too young. He shouldn't have to do this!"

"No one should. No one deserves this, but we'll protect him."

"I can't. I tried. I could have stopped him, but I ran."

"What are you talking about?"

"Sylar. All I had to do was let him take my power. It would have killed him. Brighton would have been safe, but I couldn't do it. I felt him cutting into my head and I ran."

Memories of the last two days flooded into place.

"_Not as honest as you though." _

"_That is entirely selfish on my part. It's bad enough I have to live with everyone else's vibes. Do you really think I want my own bullshit bouncing around my head?"_

Peter remembered the vision he'd had as Denise was being attacked; the combination of images, thoughts, emotions, and a dialogue between two people. He remembered watching her body being hoisted into the ambulance, then stealing her away so that he could perform the surgery to save her life.

"You didn't run."

"I did. I remember-"

"You remember the hospital supply closet. I was the one in your head."

"What?"

"When I got to the bar, you were unconscious, and Sylar was gone. You had an aneurism. It was going to explode if I didn't operate."

"Operate? You're a hospice nurse, not a neural surgeon. How'd you know what you were doing?"

"One of Sylar's other abilities. He knows how stuff works. I could see what was wrong, and I used telekinesis to fix it."

Denise was astonished. "If that was you… Why didn't he kill me?"

"I don't know. I'm just glad he didn't. I need you. I know that you're the key to solving this."

Deni's hysteria had finally run it's course. She looked at Peter with respect and incredulity. "How can you believe something so blindly?"

"You're a part of this. The paintings, the dreams, 'Save the Chearleader, Save the World'. A painting led me to Claire in Texas, a drawing led me to the subway where I found you. You part isn't over. You're not suppose to die."

Talk of 'parts' set Deni's mind in motion. Paintings, and dreams; those where the pieces she had to put together. Then her thoughts stopped as she caught sight of something both strange and familiar.

"Deni?"

"These paintings. Do they look anything like that one?"

XXXXX

Audrey regained control over herself in time to subdue the Asian man. He had clearly mistaken their request for questioning as an attempt to arrest the woman. The man was attempting, quite pathetically, to defend the woman.

"Take it easy, we don't mean the lady any harm," Lawrence assured.

"Cinnamon is beautiful woman. She disserve respect."

Audrey scoffed, "And your idea of respect is to shove twenties in her g-string?"

Before Cinnamon and the Asian could retort Lawrence proceeded to deliver his message. "…His name is Sylar. He's a serial killer, targeting people with specific talents. We believe he may soon come after you."

"And by talents you mean…?"

"I'm not talking about you're dancing. I know it wasn't sequins and body rolls that brought my partner to her knees."

Cinnamon pouted her ruby lips. "Maybe your partner has an unacknowledged desire for women."

Lawrence could tell that the comment enraged Audrey. "Detective Hansen's sexual preferences are none of your business. But for the record, you are the first woman I've ever responded to."

Hanson, Cinnamon, and the Asian all gave Detective Lawrence a wide eyed look at his blatant admission.


	24. Chapter 24

Author's Note: No I haven't abandoned you all. Life has just been nuts. I just recieved my diploma the other day. I've completed my associates of Business Management. Now I'm working towards my Bachelors with a minor in Literature. Enough about me now. On with the story.

**Don't Lie to Me - 24**

Simon and Monty ran to the door the moment their dad came home. Nathan scooped up his boys in swirling bear hug. They screamed and giggled in delight. As Nathan brought them to the ground he was hesitant to let them go.

"Daddy, are you okay?" Monty asked.

"I'm fine, I just missed you boys. Are you finished packing?"

"Almost," Simon said. "Should I pack my bathing suit?"

"Why not?" Nathan said with his charismatic grin.

The boys scampered back upstairs as Heidi wheeled into the room. She waited until the boys were out of earshot before she demanded in a whisper, "Nathan, what is going on?"

"It's complicated."

"Well you'd better start coming up with some answers, because I've had about enough of these secrets."

The doorbell rang and Nathan cursed aloud. He swung the door open with a jerk, and instantly regretted it.

"Nathan Petrelli. I'm Officer Parkman, we met in Texas."

Nathan shook his head. "What did Peter do now?"

"Actually I'm here about a woman you checked out of the hospital this morning, Denise Haskell?"

"Nathan?" Heidi said, looking at her husband suspiciously.

Nathan held up a hand indicating that he needed a minute. "This is really not a good time."

"Please, Mr. Petrelli. Her brother was murdered this morning. We think the killer could come after her next. You are the only lead I have at finding her first."

For a moment everyone was silent, then the officer by some invisible cue suddenly said, "Right, sorry to waste your time."

Nathan shut the door, and turned to his wife.

"Either you tell me what's going on, or I will take the boys and leave you."

Nathan started with the only logical place to start. "It's Linderman."

XXXXX

"It's the back of my apartment building," Deni explained. The painting showed Sylar standing on the third floor fire escape looking down at a multicolored blur.

"What is that?" Peter asked pointing to the blur.

"You mean who is that."

Peter focused on the vibrant red stripe at the top of the blur. "That's Brighton?"

Deni nodded. "That must have been last night, right after his father was murdered."

"And right before he came to you. This is definitely Isaac's work. This must be Simone's gallery."

"So this painting. Does this mean Brighton's part of this too?"

"It looks that way."

"How many of these paintings are there?"

"I don't know. Some have been sold. Isaac keeps some at his loft."

"I need to see them, but first I'll need a camera. Do you think we have time for a quick trip before the crew arrives at your safe house?" Denise was puzzled when Peter didn't answer right away. "Peter?"

"Are you sure you want to go there… right now?

"Things are barely beginning to make sense. I need all the pieces if I'm suppose to solve this puzzle." The look on Peter's face troubled her deeply. "Peter, what's wrong?"

"There's something I have to tell you. It's about the way Simone died."

XXXXX

Haskell had been trained well, Bennett thought to himself. No bank accounts, or credit cards. She used a disposable cell phone. She worked under the table, and paid her rent in cash. The only question was how the police had located this whole-in-the-wall apartment in the first place. Bennett studied every item. He could tell from the contents of her fridge that she didn't cook. Male clothing suggested that she'd recently had a visitor. This was confirmed by the presence of two used margarita glasses. There was no phone, computer, or television, just stacks, and shelves of books. A search under the couch revealed a curious item. So far Bennett had seen no pet dishes, or dog hair; so what would Haskell be doing with a canine shock collar.

His cell phone rang.

"_It's Parkman."_

"Did you find anything?" Bennett began to flip through a portable file cabinet.

"_Petrelli was keeping tabs on Haskell in order to locate his brother Peter. He found him, but then let both of them drive off. He doesn't know where either of them are now."_

"Why would he keep track of someone, and just let them go?"

"_That's where Claire comes in. She came to New York looking for Peter Petrelli. Apparently Nathan is her biological father. Somehow Haskell knows, so he let them go in order to keep things quiet."_

Bennett gritted his teeth. It was always hard for him to think of Claire's real parents, but hearing that Nathan Petrelli would let her wander off to avoid bad press made him furious.

"_They're also traveling with a Dr. Suresh, and a young male in his late teens."_

"Who they're with doesn't matter if we can't find them. She knows I'm looking for her, and she's going to use every trick she knows to disappear." Bennett hung up. He was out of leads, but he knew he was close. Looking down he saw a file that inflamed his curiosity. "Tax Returns?"

XXXXX

Denise still wasn't use to teleporting, but it was quicker than flying, and safer than any public transportation. She gave Peter a longing look. She wanted to say something. She needed to break the terrible silence that was congealing around them. There simply weren't words to adequately expressed the gamit of her emotions.

"You still want to do this?" Peter asked. "After everything I just told you?"

"No, I don't," Deni admitted. "Right now all I want is to take a shower, get out of these damn clothes that I've been wearing for three days now, and pretend that there is nothing in the world outside of a comfy couch and a warm comforter. But you keep saying that you need my help. Hell, you've saved my life three times, the least I can do is talk to the guy."

"Just be careful."

"I'll be fine. Crutches or no, I'm not entirely helpless."

"I'll be back in an hour." Then Peter drew her into a tight embrace. "Thank you for doing this."

Deni returned the hug possessively. She inhaled his scent, and repressed the urge to press her lips against his neck. _Get a grip, Deni. He's not yours, and he never will be._

Just then Peter pulled away, with a strange look in his eye. Deni interrupted him before he could speak. "Get going, Hero. I don't want Brighton spazzing out when he gets there before us."

Peter nodded reluctantly, and teleported.

XXXXX

It was strange being back in Charles Deveux's penthouse, knowing the man was gone. There was a knock at the door. Peter unlocked it, and Mohinder and the kids came piling through.

"Wow," Brighton said in awe, Mohinder the lizard nestled in one hand. "I have _never_ seen an apartment this nice. First dibs on the shower!" He shouted before zooming off in search of the bathroom.

"Your turn to be the babysitter," Mohinder said to Peter as he set down his luggage. "I'm going to get groceries."


	25. Chapter 25

-1_Author's Note: __I was very pleased with the surge of reviews I got. I know many of you wish that I would make posts more often. I wish I could too, but sometimes the story just doesn't cooperate. For example: the conversation between Deni and Isaac; When I first started writing this I thought that was going to be chapter three. Now here we are chapter 25 and I'm finally getting around to it. What can I say, certain characters needed attention, new characters popped out of nowhere, and I had to think of how to keep Deni in the same clothes for three days._

_To those who are wondering. Yes, Hiro will be in this fanfic. I just need to get a grip of the characters I already have in play before I start adding more._

**Don't Lie To Me - 25**

Deni was incredibly nervous as she lifted her hand to knock. Spying through the glass she saw a man, presumably Isaac, arguing on the telephone. Instinctively she took a few steps back. From what Peter had told her, Isaac's life was enough of a mess. No reason for her to mess it up more. She could wait a few minutes.

Bennett's voice was firm, and slightly condescending. _"Listen to me. I know you've had a rough couple weeks, but people's lives are at stake. I need you to help me find someone."_

Isaac was exhausted, so he relented to Bennett's will. "Who?"

"_A woman, twenty-seven years old, named Denise Haskell. I have an old photograph, I can drop it off."_

"A woman?" Isaac cleared off one of the paintings he'd thrown across the room. "Caucasian, with long brown hair?"

"_You've painted her. Where?"_

"Here. I painted her in my loft, standing right next to me."

"_I'll call my partner, we'll be right over."_

Just as Isaac was about to hang up he glanced out his front door. "You might want to hurry. She's already here."

Deni was pacing awkwardly on her crutches, talking to herself. "Hey, I'm a friend of Peter's… No don't bring that up. That might be a bad idea… So, I hear you can paint the future. I'd like to help you with that whole "Saving the World" thing… Great, I'm starting to sound like Brighton." She heard the door swing open. The pain in her head caught her off guard, and she nearly fell right off her crutches. "Ah, shit!"

"Are you ok?" Isaac asked, helping her back to her feet.

"Just take a couple steps back please. Ah, thank you… That brings back memories," she said while massaging her temples.

"Memories of what?"

"Never mind. I need to ask a favor, and I'm sure it's going to sound crazy-"

"I'm use to crazy," Isaac interrupted. "Come on in."

XXXXX

Audrey Hanson did not like feeling out of control. Parkman being a rookie, had followed her lead almost blindly. Lawrence had taken the lead with both hands and had dragged her all over the city. "Why are we leaving."

"We've warned Miss Juarez. I have a good feeling that she can take care of herself."

"If Sylar is coming here, then we're going to wait for him."

"And do what exactly, Detective Hansen? You've said so yourself, the guy can stop bullets, he's frozen people, he can play you like a marionette. How do you expect to stop him? And even if you could, how would you hold him."

"With your instincts I'm sure you'll think of something."

"My instincts are useless if I don't listen to them, and right now they're saying to get the Hell out of here."

Audrey stood her ground. "Leave if you want to. I'm not letting Sylar get away this time."

Mitch Lawrence let out a breath between his teeth. "I don't suppose there's anything I can say to persuade you."

XXXXX

Nathan was on his knees holding his wife's hands in his own as the truth came hemorrhaging from him. If he hadn't known better he would have thought that Deni was standing right behind him, forcing the truth from his lips. He told her everything; from Nikki Saunders to Claire Bennett to Deni Haskell, from his own ability to fly to Peter's capacity to explode.

Nathan couldn't look his wife in the eye. He couldn't bare to see her sorrow, her anger, her hatred. Whatever emotion might be playing across her face for which he was the cause. He was gripping her hands tightly, forcing himself not to cry. He never wept, not since that day 15 years ago that he thought his daughter had died.

"Look at me Nathan?" Heidi finally spoke. Her voice was strained with emotion. "Do you still love me?"

"Yes," Nathan answered. He hoped that she believed him. He needed her to believe him.

Heidi slipped her hands out of his. "The boys and I are packed. We'll finish this later."

It was less than he'd hoped for, but it was more than he deserved. His family was soon loaded into the helicopter. Before they took off he grabbed Heidi's hand one last time. "I'll meet you on the terrace at eight!" he shouted above the sound of the helicopter blades.

XXXXX

Deni photographed each painting where it lie, moving them only to get to others that lay beneath. The one she was currently photographing depicted a suited man standing beside a helicopter. The man's tie looked like the same one Nathan had been wearing earlier that day. Shifting it aside, she was suddenly recognized the painting beneath. Not because she had seen it before, but because Peter had described it to her over a round of margaritas. She recognized Peter's angular face and floppy hair as he took his nearly fatal leap of faith. She picked up the painting, and placed it on a nearby easel. She captured it with her digital camera, but instead of moving on, she continued to study the painting. He looked so confident in the painting, so serene. Denise wondered what it must feel like to have that kind of faith in something.

"You're in love with him aren't you?" Isaac called from across the room.

Deni felt a swell of pity for the troubled painter. "Are you asking to make conversation, or do you really want to know?"

"I just find it ironic that the woman he's suppose to love can be dead for little more than a week, and he's already moved on." Isaac was making his way across the loft.

"He hasn't moved on. He saved my life, and I'm trying to return the favor. That is the extent of our relationship."

"But you wish it was something more."

"I don't waste my time wishing." The pulse in Deni's head intensified as Isaac kept getting closer. Deni rotated one of her crutches and used it to push Isaac back a couple feet. "And if you don't keep at least one crutch length away from me I'm going to beat your ass with it."

Isaac sneered. "I guess Peter told you how Simone died. Are you afraid I'm going to shoot you too?"

"You can shoot me from across the room, now back the fuck up, you're giving me a headache."

"That's me, one big headache. Not everyone can be perfect."

Isaac was treading on Deni's last nerve. "You asked for it," she muttered to herself, dropping her crutches. "No one is asking for perfection. A little effort wouldn't hurt. You think you have it so damn tough because your girlfriend left you for another guy, then died while you were having a pissing match with the guy she left you for. Yeah, your life sucks. Welcome to New York! The truth is, you brought all your problems on yourself because you couldn't stay clean. You've tried, six or seven times in the last 14 years? What is your drug of choice anyway? I can tell it's not pharmaceutical. Cocaine, Heroine, Meth?"

"Heroine," Isaac stated involuntarily. "It's easy for you to judge. You don't know about addiction."

"The Hell I don't!" Deni shouted back. "I got my first bad headache when I was five. My Mom told me to take an aspirin and leave her alone. By the time I was 13 I was having migraines every day. And by 20 my head was in constant pain. The aspirin wasn't helping any more, but I couldn't stop because the withdrawal was agony. Then I went into liver failure." She quickly unbuttoned her jacket and pulled one side open revealing a surgical scar across her abdomen. "The doctors gave me four months to live. I managed to survive five and a half before a Jersey cop I'd never met offered a piece of his own liver. The only thing he asked in return is that I give up pills, all pills, forever. Just try to imagine enduring abdominal surgery and withdrawal at the same time.

"Don't think that because Simone is gone that you have nothing left to lose. You have a home, a job, friends, family, fans, relatively good health, a pulse… Keep using, and you will lose _Everything_, just like I did." Her tirade had succeeded in shocking Isaac into silence. Denise had blown off most of her steam, but felt the need to clarify one final point. "And yes, I do have feelings for Peter, but he doesn't return them."

"I wouldn't be to sure about that," Isaac stated. He sifted through a cluster of paintings that Deni hadn't gotten to yet. There he found it, the painting that had made him so furious the day before that he had trashed his loft.

Deni recognized herself, wearing the same clothes that she was wearing now. Peter had changed. They both appeared to be standing in the rain. Peter was holding her close, and was kissing her forehead. Deni didn't know quite how to react to the painting. She photographed it and moved on to the next one. She could sort out her reaction later.

Suddenly her head began to swarm with new vibrations. Or rather very old vibrations. It was a very distinctive cocktail that she recognized immediately. _Shit!_ she thought to herself. _He found me._

XXXXX

Detective Lawrence weighed his options very carefully. This was not an easy process considering that the pounding and shouting coming from the car trunk wasn't aiding his concentration. He needed to get Detective Hansen far enough away from the strip joint that she wouldn't go running after Sylar, but the longer she stayed in there, the more likely she would charge him with kidnapping a federal officer. Pie, that sounded pretty good about now.


End file.
